For Her
by rohan73
Summary: It was a starless night with a promise of rain. Two men running to save a soul. The other, in his shock, failed and lived with guilt he would soon use to fuel his revolution - his unspoken promise to her. The other held the broken girl, shielded her with his bloodied hands for as long as he could... for as long as she needed.
1. Chapter 1

Gavroche wasn't joking when he said Eponine was hard to scare and that she knows her way around. Long ago, the scums of the streets avoided her because of her ties to Patron-Minette, her father's gang. She has long since proven that she can survive on her own credit, burning the bridges that held her to them. Now, Eponine answers to no one and fends for herself and Gavroche.

After leaving her father's side, although still allowing herself petty thievery at first in order to eat, the working people had taken into slowly trusting her and welcoming her, allowing her small temporary jobs at first. She made a mental rule to never steal from anyone who couldn't afford a carriage, that way maybe her conscience wouldn't nag on her too much. It must be said that it couldn't have been possible without Gavroche; people loved the insightful and clever gamin, and he managed to convince the people that his sister wasn't as bad as they thought she was. Now she works with an old woman who owns a fruit stall in the market. The pay was just enough to get by; it went as rent for the small attic in an old building that she and Gavroche now live in, and enough to make sure they didn't go hungry.

Now to say that Eponine has discarded everything of her former life would be a fault. One habit she couldn't let go of was the habit of strapping on a small dagger on her right thigh. She felt safer that way, knowing she could defend herself if needed be. The shadows on the street knew how well she handled the blade.

One night a drunkard, having not realized it was she, started to grab her by her hair his other hand started exploring her chest. She didn't even let out a small yell for help, but instead lifted the side of the rags that poorly passed as a skirt, pulled the tiny dagger and buried it the man's shoulder dragging it down painfully slow as the man released his grab on her. The sound he made was terrifying as he stumbled back and landed on his ass. For good measure, Eponine landed a good hard kick between his legs. Oh how he screamed. She bent down, now the man delirious and barely conscious in his pain, could hardly understand what was happening when she tipped his chin with her bloodied dagger and whispered harshly, "remember this face. Remember me the next time you dare put hands on a woman without her consent." With that she wiped her dagger clean on his sleeves, placed it back on the strap on her thigh, stood up and walked away.

The story made its way around town, it seems that there were gamins and whores on the same alley that night, hiding in the shadows. Watching her as she defended herself, they were at awe, and so the story went about. She was a force to be reckoned with. She was strong, and on her own.

And although those with evil intent avoided her at all means, others around her: those who saw her while she worked and especially when Gavroche was around, found themselves revolving around her, getting pulled in slowly. She was a charming girl with soft features. The beauty hidden by grime and dust not a long while ago, now easily showed. It was not an angelic sort of beauty she had, it was of the simple, and not at all intimidating sort that could easily shift from charming to fierce.

* * *

_It was a starless night, cold with a promise of rain. He found himself walking down a street he knew all too well but have tried to avoid. He shivered, not so much from the night chill but from knowing of what was to come. Putting an unsure step after the other, he ventured deeper towards the shadows. His feet gaining speed, leaving fear and uncertainty behind. He needed to get there before it's too late... again. _

_Now panting and running silently through the slums, he was praying and hoping that tonight would be different. But alas, it was not. Now, like every other time before, a piercing shriek broke the silence. He knew he was too late, but he needed to see her. So he ran. _

_When he got to the source of the noise, he saw a monster of a man forcing himself on a girl. She looked fragile, yet she fought with what she had. She was silently sobbing. It broke his heart, and angered him. Having been glued to the spot in his anger and disgust and before he could put a stop to any of it, the man grunted signaling his release. After a second, the dirty old man pulled himself out, buttoned his trousers and spat on the girl on the ground. He bent down and caught her tiny face in his hand, and laughed at her. "Your father has been paid well, my sweet. No need for tears. Maybe he'll even have a crust left for you when you get home." He said. The girl shook her head out of his grasp and took the opportunity to spit back at him earning her a painful slap across her cheek. _

_Just then, a strong voice laced with wrath was heard "Leave her be. NOW." A man he couldn't clearly see has arrived. He noticed the man stutter, now wearing an obvious look of fear on his face, as he turned and ran away. The man who just called out now emerged from the shadow, he looked well dressed. "Perhaps a gentleman," he remembered thinking. He took the shivering girl in his arms with ease, holding her close, whispering comforting words and apologies to her. She looked up, wearing a weak smile on her tear-stained face, and whispered a name he could barely hear. She whispered, "'Parnasse."_

Enjolras woke up finding himself drenched in sweat, and somehow short of breath. This nightmare born from an unfortunate night years ago when he was new in Paris, has haunted him ever since, although with less frequency now than before. It was the fact that he had not been able to help the damsel in distress that haunted him endlessly. The guilt he carried and the awakening he has earned that night has spurred a fierce desire to reach out to those who endure such injustice and suffering to have a sou or two in their pockets.

He got out of bed and headed to fetch a glass of water, which ended up with him on his desk. "There is no point in going back to bed," he thought, "I might as well get more work done. Patria needs the revolution to succeed." As he began his work, pulling papers and reopening maps, he then added in a whisper to himself, "I need this to work for her and her likes, whoever she is."

Not another word has escaped his lips as he worked yet through another night.


	2. Chapter 2

"Good day, Madame. Hello 'Ponine!" Courfeyrac called out making his way thru the morning crowd, Gavroche sitting atop his shoulders waving his hands happily.

Madame Laurice, the old woman Eponine was working for, smiled warmly at the boys and greeted them with a gentle voice. She was quite fond of the two. "And what brings you two here so early?" Eponine, who was busy fixing things under the table, now peeped out and gave the boys a smile.

"Bonjour Madame!" Gavroche, having gotten down Courfeyrac's shoulder took Madame's hand and placed a little kiss. "Just 'ere to see your lovely face," he finished.

"Oh my little man." She laughed in response. "You flatter me so." Eponine and Courfeyrac laughed at their exchange.

"Just madame's, Vroche?" Eponine pouted. "What about me?"

"Oh, that's for Courf here." Gavroche mumbled, earning a raised brow from Madame Laurice, and a slight blush from Courfeyrac. Eponine cocked her head to the side, not quite sure of what she heard. He then added with a clearer note, "I'm just 'ere to tell you that he'll be taking me about today. So there's no need to worry your pretty little head."

"And where, pray tell, will you boys be?"

"I'm taking him to the café again today. We'll be spending most of the morning there. Then this afternoon we will be by the Notre Dame." Courfeyrac spoke up.

"Another one of those? I tell you, your cause is admirable but surely it will put you boys in trouble." Madame said gravely.

"Just promise me you both will stay safe." Eponine sighed.

"You should come see us later 'Ponine!" Gavroche piped up.

"You should!" Courfeyrac added. "Grantaire has been asking for you. I think he may not be quite over with the draw you ended up with weeks ago."

Eponine smiled at the memory. "Perhaps I'll drop by."

After a few more exchanges, and a couple of apples later, the boys said their goodbyes. Now alone, Madame Laurice turned to Eponine, "What do you think about this revolution they are planning out? Such young boys."

"The people deserve change for the better, no doubt. But, I fear that their efforts might be in vain." Eponine replied, shaking her head. "They don't even know what it feels like to live in poverty, how do they expect the people to relate to them?"

* * *

Later that day, as Eponine started to clean up as the hour of closing neared, a familiar man came about, "How much for this bunch of grapes? And I'd very much like an hour of your day." Eponine turned, a smile quickly appearing on her face.

"'Parnasse! what brings you here?"

"I was in the neighborhood, and I realized I haven't seen you in so long."

"Well I'm about to close shop. Give me a few minutes?"

When Eponine finished, Montparnasse offered his arm as they walked away from the market place. "Where to?" he asked.

"Well, we could make our way to Notre Dame. I've promised Gavroche I'd be there." She replied, putting her hand around his arm. He looked at her hand and noticed the bracelet with blue beads that she wore. He touched his fingers to it, a distant look on his face that Eponine did not miss.

The bracelet was Azelma's. She had asked for it to be given to Eponine before she died. Eponine wore it as a reminder of her and of their childhood. She offered Montparnasse a small smile, squeezing his arm. He was just as close to Azelma as he was to Eponine, losing her pained him as much as it did her own sister and Gavroche.

They talked as they made their way to the rally. Seeing each other hasn't been a frequent thing these days. She was busy living an honest life, while he still preferred moving through the shadows. She was telling him about Grantaire and how she has managed to match his bottles and skills at chess, when Montparnasse stopped in his tracks making her halt her steps and speech at the same time.

They have reached the rally, a sea of people bigger than she'd expected gathered around a make-shift podium where she could see three figures. She scanned the crowd to look for Gavroche, seeing as he was again on top of Courfeyrac's shoulder a few meters away from the podium and just a few steps away from the crowd, she pulled her companion to their direction.

Up the podium were three of Courfeyrac's friends: Marius, Combeferre, and Enjolras. It was Combeferre speaking at the moment. Marius and Enjolras stood a bit behind him, discussing some things in whisper. And just then a cheer erupted from the crowd, "Egalité pour tous!" Enjolras and Marius paused, distracted and pleased by the outburst, and have returned their attention to the crowd.

It was then that Enjolras caught a familiar sight. Moving through the crowd, two figures: a small woman with long wavy hair and a man... well dressed, same build... "Could it be? Could it be him?" He thought, his brows knitted together, his eyes squinting to see better. He felt like seeing a ghost in daylight. He was about to jump of the podium, when a hand grabbed his shoulder. It was Marius, he was pulling him to the other direction. It was only then that he noticed the crowd beginning to break apart. It finally dawned on him, the police were coming.

Down among the crowd, as Eponine and Montparnasse made their way to Gavroche, the people started becoming restless. Montparnasse stopped, raised his eyes well above the rest and cocked his head to the left. Eponine felt him tense beside her, and without another second, she felt his hand pulling at her arm, barely hearing his voice saying "the police are coming. we have to flee, now!" She wanted to get Gavroche, but she could see him running hand in hand with Courfeyrac; the little boy leading the man to escape.

They moved fast, Montparnasse leading the way. His sole focus was to get them out of here. He was still a wanted man. Eponine on the other hand had her eyes darting around, trying to make out which direction Gavroche and Courfeyrac has gone to, and to make sure they were indeed out. Instead of finding them again, she had caught sight of one of the men who lead the rally just minutes ago. For a second there, they held each other's gaze. His eyes were intense, inquiring with a hint of confusion in them. Eponine couldn't figure out why as she snapped back from her thoughts as Montparnasse was gaining speed, pulling them both out of the crowd and into the smaller streets.

They didn't stop running until they were a good distance away. The man now trying to catch his breath rested his weight on the wall. Eponine, who was standing a few steps away trying to even out her breathing, was lost in her thoughts. "The look on his face... He seemed so troubled, but why me?" A dozen of questions plagued her mind. She couldn't fathom why a man such as him would look at her like that. He looked so confident, and strong as he stood atop the podium earlier, but then when their eyes met, he looked scared, panicked, confused. She could hear her heart pounding, was it because of the running or because of that encounter? She decided it was both. She couldn't shake it, the look on his face, the guilt and shock so clear in his features.

"'Ponine? Are you quite alright?" Montparnasse said, taking her away from her thoughts.

"Yes. Im fine." She blinked twice, as if seeing him for the first time again. "I'm sorry, I just got a bit distracted."

"Listen, I have to go. I cannot be seen out as I am sure the police are still roaming the streets looking for those men." He said, his eyes not resting on Eponine, but frantically looking around."You'd be better of without me for now. I trust you'll be fine on your own?"

Eponine nodded. They both know she'd be perfectly capable of staying out of trouble. He has taught her well, and she was smart enough to see the signs as they came. "Do you still have the blade I gave you?" He asked, looking her in the eye.

She rested her hand on the her upper right thigh, feeling the strap and the blade beneath her skirt. "Always." She replied. He plants a gentle kiss on her forehead and turned away, speaking just enough to be heard, "keep safe."

Just before the shadows consumed his figure she called back, "Stay safe."

* * *

**I'm not quite sure how im doing... is it good? bad? confusing? Would love to hear/read from you guys. feedback would be highly appreciated. Please and Thank you. **


	3. Chapter 3

The Amis found themselves back at the Musain after the rally. Joly, Bossuet and Feuilly arrived first, panting as they sat themselves down. Having confirmed that everyone was fine, Joly stood up to wash his hands and face. "It'd be best, I think, if you both will do the same. With all that dust and grime, we can never be too safe." He said as he returned to his seat. The two others just shook their heads slowly, slightly amused at Joly. Bossuet stood up anyway, and made his way to the sink.

When he returned Jehan, Courfeyrac and Gavroche have just entered, laughing loudly and red in their faces. Grantaire followed a second after with Bahorel a step behind. "Where's my bottle?" Grantaire roared making his way to the bar. "It's been hours! Hours without alcohol on my lips! Oh the things I endure for this madness!" Finally taking a swig.

"You'd be wise to put that bottle down, Enjolras seems to be upset. He'll be here in a bit." Combeferre said as he entered with Marius, his tone friendly yet firm. They both looked tired. They've taken the long way back. Since they were one of the last ones to leave they took extra precaution not to get followed and opted for the long way back to the café.

They sat around talking about the rally and how the people reacted. Gauging their performance, trying to decide whether there was success in today's effort. Bottles distributed and pipes lit, the Amis settled into a comfortable conversation while waiting for Enjolras to arrive.

Their leader was down at the entrance of the café, sitting on the curb, his head in his hands trying to steady his heart and his breathing. The sight of those two has been bothering him all through out their walk back to the café. He had asked his friends to head on up without him, excusing himself for a while to regain his breath.

As he sat there, he tried to calm his mind. The man with his strong stand, his virile build, and his choice of clothes has reminded him of the one who emerged from the shadows in his dream. And what about that girl who hovered around him? He desperately tried to push the foolish thought that it might be the same people he has seen years ago.

"Maybe it is the same man." He thought, "but the lady with him surely isn't the same trembling girl in the shadows." He recalled her steady brown eyes, and her confident stance... There was something fierce and mysterious about that woman; there was something mesmerizing in her gaze. "It couldn't be her" He whispered, shaking his head as he got up to face his friends. His musings and confusion will have to wait. Patria, he remembers, is demanding for him.

* * *

The bells chimed, signaling the tenth hour of the night. Many of the Amis have left hours ago, probably off to their mistresses. Left inside the warm café were Combeferre and Enjolras, both buried in their own books and studies. Grantaire sat in a corner with Jehan drinking as usual while his friend was caught up in another passionate burst of poetry, his hand trying to keep up with his mind as he wrote the words down.

When the silence resumed as the bells halted their chorus, Enjolras set his book down, yawned and stood up stretching. Gathering his books and materials, he bid everyone goodbye and made his way for home. As soon as he stepped out of the café, his thoughts returned to the mysterious girl. In his tired state, it was quite hard to push the thoughts away and soon he was walking in a trance, images of the girl flashing in his head.

* * *

In another place, not too far off, Eponine having just finished mending Gavroche's trousers, stood up from the rickety chair. She noticed the boy fast asleep in the mattress they shared. She went over to him, placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and whispered good night. Nights like this was rare, Gavroche usually needed to be forced to sleep, and when he finally did agree to it, it was usually well after midnight. Tonight though, probably from the exhaustion from today's activities, the boy fell asleep without any fuss. With her brother safely asleep in bed, she took the opportunity to take a break and do something she's always loved. Picking up her dagger from the table, she quickly strapped it on, after which she reached for the keys and made her way out quietly.

Walking the streets of Paris at night, was a simple joy for Eponine. Back when she lived with her parents, this simple act provided her an escape and a temporary sense of peace as she wandered the glowing streets. She preferred to trace the path of the river, crossing bridges as she went. On a night such as this, when the moon was full and the stars dominate the skies, Paris lived up to its fame. The pavement shone like silver, and the water of the Seine still and cold reflected the street lights, seemingly setting the world aglow.

* * *

His trance was broken by a shrill cry. His head snapped to face the direction from where it came from, and without a second thought, he ran towards it. The noises lead at the end of a dark alley, from what little light present, he made out two figures. His mind racing with images so similar to this one, his heart pounding just as badly.

"Leave her be!" He said with that tone he used to stir crowds, and a force in his words that held a threat. He mentally caught himself repeating the same words from his memory. Was this his chance at redemption? He pulled the man's body away from the girl, and landed a punch to the man's stomach knocking out the air in his body, quickly sending another one to his jaw. The man fell to the ground, seemingly unconscious.

He turned to the girl huddled on the ground, fear evident on her face. The grisette was trembling as he pulled her up by her shoulders. "Are you okay?" He managed to asked as he surveyed her face, barely registering the panicked look before he felt a hand pulling at his collar, and hearing her scream. The man was back on his feet, slightly wobbly from Enjolras' attacks, but still strong enough to throw offensive strikes at him. The grisette stood wide-eyed paralyzed in her fear, until she heard Enjolras shout out for her to run.

When she heard his command, she did as she was told. She would look for help, she decided. The man who saved her needed to be saved as well. Running frantically down the empty streets, she called out for the police, for anyone... until she came across a figure she was familiar with, who stopped upon hearing the sound of her distress. She ran faster towards the person who was now anchored to the spot, she called out "EPONINE!"

* * *

**The story is progressing pretty slow, I know. I just want to make sure that the details to the characters are set as not to confuse anyone with their future acts or decisions... Bear with me a little. More E/E soon, I promise. :)**

**Thank you, dear reader, for the feedback; it's my first. **

**It's good to know when you're doing something right or wrong... so I'd greatly appreciate your thoughts. Questions, comments, and violent reactions welcomed here. Please, let me know? :)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

"EPONINE!"

She stood still, snapping out of her reverie. A woman was quickly making her way towards her. In the night light, she made out a familiar face. This person worked in the market too, they've exchanged pleasant greetings once in a while. "What's her name?" She mentally asked herself, rummaging in her head, "ah yes, Elodie."

She seemed to be distraught as she reached Eponine. Elodie's hands grabbed on to her shoulders trying to steady herself. "What's the matter, Elodie?" Eponine asked, now worried.

"A man... he attacked me." Eponine's eyes widened surveying Elodie, finding a small bruise near her collar bone. "But I got away. Someone... some man... he saved me. But now he needs help. Please, he needs help." Her pleading and tears were enough for Eponine to run back to the direction Elodie came from, straining her ears as the noises lead her to the men.

* * *

Back in the alley, Enjolras has managed to break his opponent's nose and have landed a good few punches. Despite his attack, the man did not stay on the ground for too long a time, always pushing back again with as much force as he did before. Enjolras' lower lip was bleeding, his jaw sore and he was sure his right cheek would show a bruise in the morning.

"You stupid rich boy, thinking you're better than our lot?" The man spat out. He didn't give Enjolras time to reply as he grabbed for his head, pushing it forcefully to the wall where the contact made a horrible sound. Enjolras, now only half conscious felt something warm and wet on the back of his head, he was also aware of the tightening grip around his neck as he labored for air. Towering above him, laughing darkly, the man was focused on his prey.

He did not notice Eponine come up behind him. He did not see her reach for her dagger, but he felt it dangerously close to his neck when she whispered a cold threat in his ear. He released Enjolras who sank to the ground, white as a ghost.

She allowed the man to turn and face her. When he did, recognition lit his features forcing him to look down to the ground. "I see you know my face. You know what im capable of, and should you lay a finger on me, you know perfectly well who will come to get you." Her voice low and cold. The man looked up, defiantly meeting her eyes. A malicious smile on his face, he said "Ah! Parnasse's little whore."

Eponine's rage spurred. Her dagger making contact with his face, making him step back and yell in pain. "Run away now," she said, "because i promise the next time i cast my blade, I will not miss your eye again." A look from her was enough to confirm the validity of her threat.

The man, holding his hand against his bleeding cheek, stood up and hobbled away, mumbling curses as he went. Eponine wasted not another second as she bent down to cup Enjolras' face in her hand. Her eyes grew wide as she recognized the man. She checked his pulse, and tried to shake him out of unconsciousness.

His eyes fluttered open, his lids felt heavy to him. He realizes that there is a hand on his face, and then he sees deep brown orbs, staring at him with worry. "You must be my angel," he mused aloud wrapping his hand around her wrist, a lopsided smile appearing on his tired face.

"No monsieur, I am far from one and you are delirious." Eponine replied with a small smile, as she studied his features. He was undeniably a handsome man. She caught herself and blushed, forcing herself to look away.

It was then that she heard footsteps, and then Elodie's voice speaking to another saying "They're in that alley, inspector. Hurry, they need help!" At the mention of the presence of an officer, Eponine tensed. Her history of avoiding them made it an instinct for her to flee at any sign of them. She motioned to get up to leave, but Enjolras' grip tightened. She turned to him in panic, begging with her eyes to let her go, not wanting to utter a word in fear of being discovered.

"Stay. Please." He begged. She heard the footsteps growing close, she pulled her hand away from Enjolras, and in her haste ran towards the other end without looking back. She knew he'd be safe with them.

* * *

As soon as her touch left him, Enjolras felt the beating his body endured as the pain resurfaced. He tightened his hands into balls, his nails digging into his palms in an attempt to distract him from everything else. It was then that he realized he was holding a bracelet in his hand... blue beads. With the image of her eyes in his head, he once again fell into unconsciousness just a second before Elodie and the officer found him on the ground.


	5. Chapter 5

Eponine somehow managed to find herself in front of her tenement. She tilted her head up looking up to their attic and sighed. Her body felt heavier and her head was slightly pounding. She had walked all the way back, seemingly half-asleep, and all she could think of was the young revolutionary. She remembered seeing him smile like he was experiencing salvation when he called her his angel.

"Silly delirious man that one is." She muttered to herself. "Silly delirious… quite handsome man." She smiled. Who's being silly now?

She sat down the front steps with her chin on her hands, a small smile gracing her face. Although her body felt heavy, she felt like her emotions were at flight. Her brows met in confusion, usually after getting into a situation like the one earlier, her rage and anger would overpower her being. Tension and whatever wounds or bruises she earned in those encounters usually would go unnoticed until the next day. She would always end up falling asleep with a strong heavy feeling of hatred… hatred for how cruel life had been treating her.

But now, as she sat there on the cold pavement, she realized that the feeling was absent. She thought maybe it was because she wasn't the one assaulted, or perhaps because for the first time, her skills helped save another.

"Or perhaps it's because of that dashing gentleman, Ponine." A voice inside her head that sounded so much like Azelma teased. She knew it wasn't really Azelma in there, but if she were there at this very moment with her, she knew her sister would say exactly that. A pang of longing and sadness filled her, and as she usually did when she thought of her, she reached for the bracelet on her arm.

Alarm and worry shook her from her thoughts as her fingers grazed her bare skin. The bracelet was not on her arm. She contemplated on retracing her steps, but with what little light there is on this side of town and the likelihood of the cops still out looking for the suspect of the earlier assault, she decided that it would be safer and wiser for her to go up and sleep to collect some energy and wake early tomorrow to search for it before heading to work.

So she climbed up to her attic, got into the mattress with Gavroche, closed her eyes trying to push away the feeling of guilt that was biting on her heart. She drifted asleep with thoughts of Azelma and her blue bracelet… and just before succumbing to the lull of night behind her close lids an image flickered. It was a pair of piercing blue eyes.

* * *

Three days have passed and Eponine had given up any hope of finding the bracelet. Upon arriving at the stall earlier that morning, she had craned her neck to see if Elodie has started going back to work again. She figured Elodie opted to stay home until her bruises disappeared and wasn't at all surprised that she hasn't seen the girl in days. She would have worried too if not for the butcher, Elodie's father, telling her that his daughter was recuperating and doing fine. He also added his gratitude in a more subtle tone, which Eponine was grateful for. She didn't like the attention when it comes to matters of her life on the streets, especially when it was usually met with disdain and untrusting eyes.

She also found her thoughts wondering about the young revolutionary. She knew she could've asked Gavroche, but then he'd get curious and would start asking her questions that she knew would lead to him finding out about the incident in the alley which in turn would make the boy worry. He would also undoubtedly, devise a series of plans and schemes to keep his sister at home every single night, and she couldn't stand that. So she settled on asking Courfeyrac or Grantaire the next time she sees them.

* * *

"LADIES! Bonjour! How are you on this fine day?" Grantaire's voice boomed from two stalls down, waving his hands in the air. Eponine noticed the bottle in his left hand and braised herself for whatever it is he brings to them today.

"Grantaire, dear, nursing another hangover?" Madame Laurice smiled as Grantaire took her hand and planted a small kiss, making such a show of it as he did.

"Always the wise one, madame." He replied his eyelids dropping and then added pointing to Eponine, "Please mademoiselle, spare me the lashing. Yes I am drunk… again."

"Grantaire, as much fun as you are with the bottle in your hand and alcohol in your blood, I…" Eponine started.

"really would like to see you sober sometime soon." He cut in, finishing her usual spiel for her. "Now, now Eponine… alcohol is my mistress."

"And so are Elise, and Sophie and Amelie…" Eponine rolled her eyes in good humor watching as Grantaire's jaw dropped.

"GRANTAIRE!" all three turned to seek the one who yelled out for the young monsieur finding another young man, similarly dressed to Grantaire. He walked with sure stable steps. Eponine noted that he was not drunk. "There you are. My apologies madam, and to you too mademoiselle." He nodded to both of them as he grabbed Grantaire by the arm. "Let me relieve you of this nuisance. I really am sorry for the bother."

"Hush now child," Madame Laurice said smiling at him, making him relax a bit. "Grantaire's a friend. He's no bother."

"See, they love me." Grantaire sheepishly attempted to whisper to his friend.

Eponine grunted. "Hardly

"Where are my manners, I am Joly." He added reaching for Madame's hand first and then Eponine, who also gave him their names. Upon hearing Eponine's name, he stood back and eyed her in a curious way. "Eponine?" He looked agog, "is this why you have raced out? To find her?" He inquired turning to Grantaire who was ridiculously studying a pear, lost in his own thoughts.

The ladies stood and watched the gentlemen with amused smiles and questioning thoughts. Grantaire raised his brows and turned to face his friend with his eyes threatening to shut close soon. And then just as sudden as Joly's question, an answer deep in the recesses of Grantaire's mind must have popped up for he suddenly, with eyes wide and alert, grabbed his friend by the shoulders and said, "Joly! It's her! She's the hero Elodie spoke off! Ah, it is her I came to seek."

"Truly Grantaire? Well, I expected her to be a good deal bigger…" drifting off as he cocked his head to the side, regarding Eponine. This earned then a burst of laughter from Madame Laurice and an indignant yet amused look from the mademoiselle.

"Excuse my friends, ladies." Another young man has arrived, he was one of the three Eponine saw on the podium during the rally. "If Joly can snap out from his gaping, and if Grantaire could focus for a minute or two, they're actually here to let you know that the gentleman you saved is asking for you."

Marius, as the newcomer called himself, explained how Enjolras has just woken up earlier that day. Elodie, who was visiting had told him and his friends about Eponine. He said that upon mentioning her name, Grantaire had stood up headed for the door, the others sensing he would somehow end up in trouble in his drunken state, had decided to have him followed. "And that, my ladies, is how we three have ended up here today." He ended with a charmingly sheepish smile.

Joly, regaining his composure, added "If not for the doctor's order, and his weak state, I have no doubt that he'd be here instead of us today, mademoiselle. But as his state dictates, he is bound to his bed for a few more days before he can move out from the hospital. But he insists to see you, says something about giving back?"

"I expect no compensation from what I did, monsieur." Eponine said humbly.

"Oh come now Ponine! Don't refuse an injured man's request." Grantaire said, sounding oddly sober. In a conspiring whisper to Marius he added, "and besides, having her visit might actually do him some good."

Eponine, although curious about the man's state, didn't seem convinced. She meant what she said; she didn't want any sort of reward. It was then that Madame Laurice quietly told her, "My dear, go and see the young man. Let him at least thank you properly, those two words won't cost him anything. And besides, Elodie might be there, and you could check on her as well."

After a few more minutes of urging, Eponine agreed to visit. Arrangements were made, and goodbyes were exchanged. When the men left, madame spoke "what charming young men," she mused. Eponine raised a brow, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. Sensing yet another argument from Eponine about her justification of the lack of a lover, or to be more specific, her not needing the distraction, madame added, "you, my dear often forget that you are merely a girl. You are not immune to the woes and euphoria of love."

"Must we really go into this again?" Her eyes shone with annoyance, yet a small smile lingered on her face.

"You'll see, my dear. I tell you, you'll understand one day." Madame Laurice said in a gentle tone, as she turned to continue her work with the apples. Thankful that the conversation was left to hang for the moment, Eponine resumed her work as well.

It was not long after she restarted that she caught herself feeling nervous and excited to see the young man again. She shook her head in annoyance, and found herself fighting her thoughts for the rest of the day. "Maybe seeing him will finally relieve me of these bothersome thoughts," she thought, "perhaps it'll do me some good."

* * *

_Hello! Im a bit stuck at the moment, and some guidance would probably do me good. I've got dozen of scenes in my head already, but Im having difficulty with laying them out and connecting them. This chapter is more of a filler than anything else, and I am working to put E/E together soon. Perhaps in the next one? Most probably in the next one._

_Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one for now. Thank you again for reading._

_Sending my love._


	6. Chapter 6

Enjolras was glad to wake in his own bed. He was finally granted leave from the hospital after a long argument between him, and Joly and the doctor. He sat up carefully, his hand feeling for the bandages secured on his head. With a slight ache in his head, he stood up and made his way to the living room.

He sighed as he saw Grantaire's sleeping form on his couch, a bottle safely tucked against his chest. The Amis wanted to stay to make sure he'd be fine on his first night home, but he had successfully urged them to head on home. Joly and Combeferre took a bit more convincing, but even they too had gone home with much reluctance. Grantaire was only there because he managed to pass out only a couple of minutes after arriving from the hospital, and because no one wanted to haul him out.

Enjolras set about his morning routine as normally as his body allowed. Once he was done with a short bath, he headed to his desk with a cup of coffee. Work has piled up, and there was no time to waste. He buried himself in his work for hours until he heard someone knocking on his door. Noticing the time, he figured he'd find Elodie, and probably Combeferre and Joly on the other side of the door.

Joly walked in as Enjolras opened his door. "Enjolras! Oh, he's still out cold?" He asked looking at the man on the couch.

"Should that be a surprise?" Enjolras replied.

"Bonjour Enjolras!" Combeferre said as he entered, Enjolras raised a brow not missing Combeferre's hand on Elodie's back, gently guiding her in. He offered a nod in response.

"How are you today, monsieur? I do hope you're feeling well." Elodie said.

"Well enough. Thank you mademoiselle. And what do you have there?" motioning for the basket Combeferre was holding.

"Oh, well, I'm making lunch. Papa and mama insisted." She said in response.

"You really shouldn't bother, mademoiselle. I am grateful enough that you spend time to check…"

"And now, I am insisting as well." She cut him gently, "it's nothing compared to what you have done for me, and besides, Eponine will be joining us too. It's a rather fortunate opportunity to be able to thank you both at the same time. Now, if you could just point me to the kitchen."

Without further argument, Combeferre lead Elodie to the kitchen where she started working. The men, left to wait for the hour of lunch and their guests, had begun yet another talk of reform. Enjolras, throughout the conversation, was desperately urging himself to concentrate, forbidding his thoughts on going back to her.

* * *

Eponine was standing next to Courfeyrac as Marius knocked on the door of Enjolras' apartment. The men met up with her earlier to escort her, as agreed upon. Now, standing just outside, she couldn't push away the unsettling feeling that had been bothering her since that morning. "Get a grip Ponine! Funny you could go one-on-one with a burly man on the street and not give an ounce of nervousness, and yet here you stand barely hiding your unease." She mentally scolded herself.

The door opened revealing Combeferre. They stepped inside, and just as introductions were made between Combeferre and Eponine, Joly made his way to them and reached for Eponine's hand and gently planted a kiss. "Why, mademoiselle are you feeling well? Your hand is quite cold." He asked, his tone revealing a hint of concern.

"Oh, I can assure you, monsieur, that I am perfectly well." She said as she pulled her hand back, desperately wishing that a blush of embarrassment for having been such a nervous wreck would not show on her face, "and please, call me Eponine.

"Very well then, Eponine, as long as you drop the formalities with me as well."

"As with me." Combeferre added.

"And me!" Marius joined in. Just then, someone cleared his throat, causing the party to redirect their attention. There, merely a meter away from them stood Enjolras. Recalling the face of the woman in the rally and noted that they matched, he eyed Eponine with a barely concealed look of recognition and surprise. His friends took a silent note that this perhaps is the most attention Enjolras has given a woman. It was a curious sight to behold.

"I am glad to see you well, monsieur." Eponine said, thankful that her voice didn't sound the way she felt. She found it hard to maintain eye contact with this overwhelming man and his intense eyes, but did so anyway.

"For that I have you to thank, mademoiselle. I am Enjolras." He said as he crossed the space between them to take her hand. His initial look now replaced by the confidence and cool that his friends were accustomed to; a mask to hide thoughts begging to be entertained regarding this woman. Their company regarded them with curiosity and a mild amusement. She blushed as his lips lightly touched the back of her hand.

"Eponine!" a female voice called and before Eponine could register anything, a pair of arms wrapped around her shoulder. "Oh dear! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to see you! I had to stay home until the bruises disappear and when they did papa would barely let me walk about at home and…" the girl's distraught rambling was cut by Grantaire who fell from the couch, groaning loudly.

"Woman! Keep it down!" He whined. Enjolras shot him a look of disdain, which went unnoticed; Elodie blushed embarrassed by her outburst, while the rest dissolved in laughter. "Hmmm." He tilted his head sniffing about, looking much like a dog that has caught a scent. "I smell food!" Another round of laughter rang about.

* * *

They sat around the table enjoying the wonderful food Elodie has so lovingly prepared for them. It was not long after they started the meal that Combeferre spoke up, "Eponine, if you don't mind, we've been wondering… what exactly happened? Elodie said that the man was nowhere to be found when she got back. And you were gone too."

Enjolras, has put his cutlery down, curious as to what Eponine had to say. He had not shared to his friends what had happened in his brief moment of consciousness after getting his head banged on the wall. He hoped that she wouldn't mention his ramblings. Enjolras remembered her leaving him, and he too was eager for an answer.

Eponine's features turned guarded and her eyes hardened. Elodie noticed this and she mentally scolded herself for being so dense. She figured out what had happened when Eponine heard her and the inspector coming. She knew little of Eponine's past life, but enough to understand her impulse of fleeing a crime scene. She shifted in her seat as Eponine began to speak.

"The man ran away when he saw my blade, I tried to run after the man after I heard Elodie coming for him. I knew he'd be safe with her." She spoke with a clear voice, not betraying her lie. She looked them in the eye, but avoided Enjolras. She wasn't sure if he remembered their exchange, she risked it anyway after all it wasn't completely a lie… the man did run away realizing she had a blade in her hand.

"She's not speaking the truth." Enjolras thought, his brows knitted together. He added with a challenging, almost accusing, tone, "and did you find him, mademoiselle?"

Eponine didn't like the way he sounded, and turned to look him in the eye. He was quite taken aback at the sight of those seemingly warm eyes now looking at him coldly. "Why is she being so defensive?" he pondered.

"No monsieur, he disappeared in the shadows. And I know better than to run after a man like him in the dark." She said, bitingly. The tension was now hard to ignore. After a few minutes though, Joly broke the silence again not being able to contain his curiosity.

"Eponine, why did you have a blade on you that night?" His tone was gentle; it was a tone one would use when approaching something dangerous. Suddenly the blade and its strap felt uncomfortable on her leg. Eponine gathered her wits to form an excuse, when Elodie spoke.

"The streets are never kind to women at night, monsieur." She answered Joly. "It was actually quite foolish of me to venture out without any means of defense or an escort. Normally I too would have one or the other, it just seems that that night was an unfortunate one."

Eponine sighed as she relaxed a bit, grateful for Elodie answering for her. She spared her a glance, and she noted Elodie giving a subtle nod as if to say she had her back.

Enjolras didn't miss any of the silent interaction happening between Elodie and Eponine. Something was amiss, and his thoughts demanded to be answered with the truth. He decided to push for the answers here and now would be a mistake.

"Well, I for one am just wondering how a tiny girl like you could intimidate a man like that. Blade or no blade." Marius voiced his thoughts amiably, hoping to somehow lighten the atmosphere.

"Ha! She intimidates Grantaire! I am not surprised!" Courfeyrac boomed and began to laugh. The others, seeing Grantaire's indignant face began laughing as well.

"Why, no one intimidates Grantaire, not even Enjolras!" Combeferre said as he desperately tried to regain his composure in between chuckling.

"Well, in my defense and I wouldn't use the word 'intimidating' to describe her," Grantaire said, pausing as he took a swig from his bottle. "But she can go head to head with me in chess and in drinking... while drinking! And she's a woman! In my book, that counts for something!"

Another round of laughter from the table, and even Eponine couldn't hide a grin. Everyone was too caught up with Courfeyrac and Grantaire telling the story of the night that ended with a draw between the drunk and Eponine that they did not notice how intensely Enjolras was studying Eponine.

Eponine only partially involved in the conversation could not help but wonder about the way Enjolras spoke to her. Could he have remembered their conversation? Perhaps he noted then that the man was long gone before she left herself? Was he thinking ill of her that perhaps she ran away from the cops because she too had evil intentions? Did he recognize Montparnasse as the man she was with the day of the rally, and had thought her an accomplice to the crimes he was noted for? She mentally pushed the questions aside, and braved a glance to the revolutionary at the end of the table.

Enjolras, with his eyes still studying every reaction Eponine produced, slowly drifted back to his own thoughts. It was too late when he realized that the brunette had turned to look at him. Their eyes locked, and not one to back down Enjolras held his gaze. Eponine, not easily intimidated returned his stare.

She was startled and was forced to look away when Elodie kicked her under the table. She had noticed the two caught up in a stare-down, and knowing the others were bound to notice soon had fought for Eponine's attention. She gave Eponine a look that promised an interrogation later, the girl offered her a wry smile in exchange.

The rest of the meal went along without further complications. Enjolras kept to himself for most part, which his friends didn't find strange, while Eponine tried to distract herself with the friendly conversation, occasionally joining in.

"The questions will have to wait," two different minds contemplated, urging their curiosity to settle for now.

* * *

_A/N: Hey there! Long chapter, I guess I got a bit carried away. But I do hope you find it a good read despite the heavy word count. Also, let me just express how grateful I am for those who've followed and favorite-d(?) the story, and a special thank you to those who posted reviews._

_!Note that Enjolras has not found a solid basis to label the girl in the alley from years ago as Eponine (and who is to say that it was her indeed? *evil laugh*). He, however, had successfully figured out that the girl from the rally and the girl who saved him (although he wouldn't word it that way) are one and the same._

_What do you think will or should happen to them? What about 'Ferre and Elodie? Cossette might join in too…_

_Next chap is under construction, and will be out soon. Love and a few comments and reviews will most probably help speed the process up. :)_


	7. Chapter 7

Grantaire has once again situated himself on the couch and drifted to sleep before anybody could stop him. Joly had excused himself earlier telling his friends that he was expected at the hospital. Marius and Courfeyrac left soon after and Eponine would have gladly left with them had it not been for Elodie who begged her to accompany her back to the market where her father would be waiting.

She wouldn't have minded walking with Elodie at all, but as the fates seem to be against her today, she was forced to wait for her as she milled about cleaning and clearing the kitchen and the table. After most of the men took their leave, Eponine was left in the living room with a sleeping Grantaire, and Enjolras. Combeferre was in the kitchen with Elodie because he had eagerly offered his hand, and Elodie was just too thrill about the idea to decline and gave Eponine no room to help out.

She decided she'd be damned if she allowed herself to sulk and sit awkwardly in the corner while waiting, so she crossed the room and studied the books dominating one of the walls. She pulled out a book by Voltaire and started browsing the pages; finding a particular line that interested her, she began to loose herself to the book only mildly aware of the other occupants of the room.

She stood that way for a few minutes, undisturbed, until Enjolras loudly cleared his throat causing her to look up and turn to look at him. Not quite put-off anymore though not quite forgiving yet, Eponine regarded the man who has stood up from his desk and was now just a few good steps from her. She cocked her head to the side, unconsciously hugging the book to her chest, her silence willing Enjolras to speak.

"Mademoiselle, I know the man left long before Mademoiselle Elodie made her return. And I know you intended to stay by my side before you suddenly left in a panic. I remember the look in your eyes when you heard them come, and I remember your unspoken plea for me to let you go." He voiced his thoughts carefully, choosing his words wisely and keeping his tone neutral.

"Is there a question in there, monsieur?" She inquired, guarded. Eponine did not wish to explain why she left at the sound of the inspector's voice. She did not want to even delve on the reason why or how the man left, or how she was left unharmed. Nor did she want to explain why she conveniently had a blade on her that night, or why she was carrying one with her as they spoke. Those questions, she knew, would lead to more and eventually uncover her past life, which she so carefully worked hard to put behind. She would not stand for some man to question her so, and besides, wasn't she the one who saved him? Why was he attacking her now?

"You know perfectly well what I am trying to say." He replied, his voice cold.

"Would I be asking if I knew?"

"If you want to have it this way… You lied, and I want to know why." He said as he took a few unconscious steps towards her.

"What's it to you? You're here, alive! Why should it matter?" She asked, frustration and anger eminent in her voice. Her eyes shown a bit of hurt, betraying the walls she brought up against him.

He stopped, hearing the question made him reevaluate things. Why indeed was he so bent on digging for answers? Shouldn't he be thanking her and not bombarding her with questions that obviously she isn't comfortable answering? What happened to being a gentleman? The look in her eyes broke his urge to push for answers as he pressed his lips to a thin line.

Just then, while both were lost in each other's guarded gaze, a burst of pleasant laughter pulled them out of their bubble as Elodie and Combeferre exited the kitchen. They noticed that Eponine and Enjolras standing in such close proximity to each other, which they themselves only noticed now. Eponine flushed as her eyes dropped to the book she held, and to avoid any further awkward questions and silences, she began to speak using a tone that surprised Enjolras, and confused their friends.

"Thank you so much monsieur for welcoming me to your home and allowing me to borrow your book. I hope your recovery would go uninterrupted." She said gently, offering a small smile. Before Enjolras could answer however, she added. "Elodie and I must take our leave now. Her father must be worried about her, and I have a brother to tend to. Goodbye, monsieur."

She then turned to Combeferre to excuse them both. Elodie sensing that Eponine desperately wanted to leave had hurriedly said her goodbyes to the gentlemen and was lead to the door, where Eponine stood anxiously waiting, by Combeferre.

* * *

When they were a good deal away from the tenement, Eponine released a breath she was holding. This got Elodie's attention and she asked, "Would you like to talk about it?" Eponine for a second wasn't quite sure how to respond. It's quite unusual for her to be asked that question, in fact the only person who used to ask her that was Azelma. She stopped walking and turned to look at Elodie.

Elodie stopped as well, and continued. "Forgive me. I've heard about your past, and I've never given it much attention before. When I saw you that night, I knew that I earned Enjolras a chance to be saved; I knew what you are capable of and that you are brave. Although, I didn't realize that bringing that inspector that night would scare you, I thought it would help." She said the last sentence with guilt and mortification lacing her words.

Eponine felt her emotions and her body relax, her eyes softening. "I don't blame you, Elodie. But please, let's just keep this between us. I don't want them to know anything of my past." The other woman nodded her promise.

"What was going on between you and Enjolras?" Elodie risked asking as they began to move again.

"What was going on between _you and Combeferre_?" Eponine retorted, a huge sly smile on her face as she wiggled her brows suggestively. She started laughing as Elodie's face turned bright red.

"Stop changing the subject!" She said, hastily trying to mask her embarrassment while failing miserably to sound unruffled. Giving in, she began laughing with Eponine. When both ladies finally caught their breath, Elodie resumed her interrogation. "So, as I was saying, what was going on? I caught both of you twice! The intensity between you both was so unmistakable, though I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

Eponine stopped for a second time, sighing in frustration. "I don't know. He was making a big deal about how and why I fled before you got there. I do not understand why he was so eager to find out. He's unbelievable! His friends said he would meet me with gratitude at the very least, not that I need it, but no! He attacks me with his questions! And he's just so… infuriating!" She didn't realize how her tone had hardened with every word, or how exasperated she looked until she felt her last words going through clenched teeth. She sighed again, "I'm sorry, I usually hold my emotions better. I just don't understand why he's so bothered."

"Is that why you took his book? He looked surprised when you thanked him for _lending_ it to you." Elodie smiled in an attempt to lighten her friend's mood.

"Yes." She replied sheepishly. "Figured he'd be the kind of man who doesn't allow people to touch his precious books. Let him drown in his own pool of frustration too." She grinned back.

"Oh you cunning girl! But, push the animosity aside, you really can't deny that he's quite a handsome man."

"Well, perhaps I can give him that." Eponine giggled. She realized that she hasn't felt like this in a long while. The feeling of youth somehow managed to evade her as a gamine, and was quite reclusive even with her life now. She felt a bit silly, but to her surprise, she didn't quite mind it.

* * *

Enjolras was tossing and turning in his sleep. A few beads of sweat sat atop his forehead. He was having that nightmare again.

_…He was panting and running, waiting for her scream. His brow creased as he neared the place, the cry was yet to be heard. His heart was pounding in his chest as he stopped, his eyes widened in surprise and confusion. On the alley was a girl in rags, just as before, but her attacker was nowhere to be found. She was a pool of mess on the ground; her head was bowed so he could not tell if she was crying._

_He took one unsure step after the other and closed the distance between them, careful not to startle her. When he was a few steps away from her, he lowered himself to squat. "Mademoiselle?" He whispered, his voice gentle, "Can I help?" He was about to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder in attempt to comfort. He halted midway when the girl looked up. Her eyes sad, yet there was an unmistakable warmth and strength to them, and her pale lips formed an empty smile._

_"What's it to you, monsieur?"_

He woke up with a start, as he did when this nightmare would haunt him. He sat up and buried his face in his hands. He thought about what the girl had said… and he thought about her face. His thoughts drifted back to that afternoon, reasoning that the only reason the nightmare had shifted was because of what happened then. The guilt he felt when he saw her eyes then was messing up things in his head. He thought about Eponine.

He tried to picture Eponine being the girl from the alley that unforgettable night, but no matter how his suspicions egged him to do so, he could not discredit the look of strength and confidence that Eponine had which a broken girl would surely lack. And besides, the gentleman with her during the rally could be a totally different person from the one who saved the girl years ago. But why couldn't he shake the idea off? Why did the situation weigh heavier now with Eponine in the picture? He felt like he was given pieces to a puzzle he started long ago, only to realize that the pieces he had now shown a completely different picture from the one he had started.

The only way he knew to settle the brewing storm of questions is his head was to confront Eponine. It might have been her or he might be wrong, and if so, what would become of them? He contemplated on the idea but had to remind himself how she reacted when he pried earlier. With guilt and regret heavy on his heart, he decided that he would seek her to offer an apology_. _This business of meddling was unbecoming and uncalled for, he admitted.

"Oh what has the world become? I, Enjolras, go looking for a girl?" He scoffed, "What a field day my friends will surely have." In resignation, he dove back under his sheets and, for once after a nightmare like this, drifted back to sleep.

* * *

It was early in the day, and the market place was bustling with people. Elodie was back helping her father, and has stopped by to say hello to Eponine and Madame Laurice before heading a few stalls across to the butcher. The ladies at the fruit stall were busy entertaining a jolly old chef who came to them often for his café's fruits. They were laughing and speaking amiably as he recalled some kitchen disaster turned comedy from the night before. This was how Enjolras found her.

He had wanted to look for her the day after their last meeting. But Joly and Combeferre wouldn't allow him to leave despite his attempts at intimidation. The students of medicine had made it clear that he was not allowed to leave until the doctor comes for his next examination and declare it safe for him to head out. He bargained with Joly that he would stay if he gave directions to find Eponine. This earned him raised brows from his friends, and no doubt a couple rounds of jesting and gossip from his friends when he gets back to the cafe. But he allowed them to think what they want. He has nothing to hide anyway; he only yearned to speak to her to apologize, and to give her the bracelet that has been sitting on his nightstand for far too long. Besides, apologizing might win him his book back, or so he reasoned with his confused mind.

He took a moment to compose himself from afar. Eponine with her hair tied up with a blue ribbon, looked carefree and blissful as she laughed. Enjolras noted that he much preferred her this way, a small unconscious grin appeared for a second on his face. "Come on, no use delaying this." He muttered to himself. "You're ready to face the Royal Guard for the revolution, surely a girl approached with an apology in exchange for the book wouldn't be as much a challenge." With his resolve, he strode purposefully to where Eponine was.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle!"

* * *

_Hey there! So... what do you think? I'm really excited to write a bit more about Azelma and Montparnasse, oh and the Boys too, so expect to see them soon in this story. _

_a big THANK YOU to those who've followed and reviewed, and a bigger one to those who'll be leaving reviews after reading this. *wink wink* Would really love to hear from you lot. _

_Up next, discover how their meeting will go!_


	8. Chapter 8

"Bonjour Mademoiselle!" the gentleman's tone was formal and charismatic, Madame Laurice noted. She had been eyeing him since she spotted him looking at their direction from afar. It thrilled her that this handsome young man has come for Eponine.

As her underling turned to see who just arrived, a look of surprise took over her features and her smile faltered for a second. The chef, quite disappointed at being unable to finish his tale, regarded them with interest, as did Madame Laurice. When madame figured Eponine was going to take awhile to respond, she said, "Bonjour Monsieur! How may we help you today?"

Enjolras turned to regard Madame Laurice, "Forgive me, Madame, I seem to be forgetting my manners lately." Eponine raised a brow. "Good day to you too. And to you, monsieur," he turned to nod at the chef who was now leaning on the stall with a cheeky smile. "I was just about to ask Mademoiselle Eponine for a moment of her day. There is something I wish to settle with her." He finished and gave her a charming smile.

"Eponine! This fine young man wishes to talk to you." Madame Laurice nudged her. She was busy trying to figure out why Enjolras has come for her.

"I am working. I have things to do. Perhaps later?" She said to both, fearing that he was here to badger her some more.

"None sense child! Let's not waste the gentleman's time. Go on! I'll hold up perfectly fine even on my own." Madame told Eponine deviously.

"But madame…"

"Go take her on a walk, this is no place for two young people to _settle _things" She turned to tell Enjolras. A noticeable flush appeared on his cheeks at madame's suggestive tone.

"Oh just go already!" The chef whined, "unless you fancy an audience… hmmm, this business of 'settling things' might be good for gossip later."

Much to their entertainment Eponine had exited the stall grabbing the book that Enjolras was glad to see. She moved in haste, and didn't even mutter a goodbye to the two at the stall who wore amused smiles as they watched her drag Enjolras through the crowd, her hand firmly clasped on his wrist.

When they were out of view, the chef said, "Well, now there's something we don't see everyday. Who figured young Ep here would find herself such a good catch." He chuckled boisterously. To this, Madame Laurice only replied, "well, it's about time."

* * *

When they got out of the market place, Eponine immediately dropped Enjolras' arm. They continued walking side by side in silence for a few more minutes, not exactly knowing where they we're going. One minute Enjolras would seem to be leading the way, and on the next Eponine. They were both extremely aware of each other's presence, but they chose to ignore it if only for a second more as they tried to organize their thoughts.

It has been days since they both last seen each other. Enjolras, since that peculiar night has felt only remorse towards Eponine. The girl, not one to hold grudges, had conveniently buried any ill feeling she might have harbored against him that day. Although she wasn't fuming anymore, she was still a bit exasperated at this young man.

The lull between them stretched as Eponine scanned their surroundings. She noted that this gentleman beside her was turning heads earning her looks of envy and annoyance between the dreamy ones thrown at Enjolras. Before she could think of what she was about to say and despite her better judgment, she said, "you're quite famous with the ladies."

Enjolras whipped his head so fast to look at her that she could've sworn his brain got a bruise. But he spoke calmly, "I have no time for women, there are things that deserve my attention much more than those bourgeoise who often have nothing to offer but petty thoughts."

Eponine wasn't quite sure what to think of it. His friends, well, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Grantaire didn't seem to agree with his philosophy. Who was she to judge when she too didn't bother herself with the opposite sex, saying that earning a living for her and her brother was far too important than wasting her time on entertaining suitors. Without anything to say about the current topic, she instead inquired about why he came to see her. "Are you here for this?" she said as she lifted the book a little. "I finished it a day ago. I didn't think taking it that day would be any good other than getting on your nerves, but it proved to be such an interesting read." She said with a shy grin on her face.

They have both stopped walking. He regarded her with an astonished gaze, firstly because she figured that his books held much importance to him and that he was every bit possessive of them to have him irate at one's sudden absence. Second because he didn't expect a lot of people, and to the very least her, to find it interesting and let alone finish the book. "You are baffling, mademoiselle."

"I should give this back." She said as she unlocked her arms and extended one to hand the gentleman the book. He took it from her as she mumbled a quiet thanks. She was about to excuse herself when he spoke again.

"I have not come only for the book. I also want to apologize for my behavior, mademoiselle." She wasn't expecting an apology and he surely have notice the look of surprise on her features because for a second, this man who spoke so fearlessly to crowds, hesitated. "I should have known better than to pry for answers, and to cause you anger. It was unbecoming and ungrateful. Indeed you have saved me, and it is not right to ask you for more. I am indebted to you." He finished, slightly tilting his head to a small bow.

"Think nothing of it monsieur. If that is all, I ask for you to excuse me, I have work to get back to." She replied politely.

"There is another thing, mademoiselle." Her gaze followed his hand as he reached inside his coat to retrieve something. Thinking it was some sort of reward she said defensively, "I do not desire any sort of compensation, monsieur." Enjolras noted the pride in her voice, and couldn't help but once again be at perplexed awe at this person in front of him. His thoughts reflected a tug on his lips that he did not bother to hide.

"Mademoiselle, think nothing of that sort. I am merely doing as you did. I think this has stayed in my possession for too long." In his out-stretched hand, laid a string of blue glass beads, Azelma's bracelet. "Truce?"

Eponine's eyes grew a noticeable pool of relief, surprise and happiness swirled in them. In her delight, without again thinking better of it, she threw her arms around the gentleman who had to clutch his hand to make sure the bracelet wouldn't fall of. It was but a second and Eponine hastily pulled away, the implications of her action dawning in her mind. She turned scarlet and casted her eyes on the ground yet she said happily. "Merci monsieur! You have no idea what this means to me." She shyly reached out for the bracelet and Enjolras' hand opened immediately at the ghost of her touch. She took it and whispered, "I think it's best I go now. Have a good day, monsieur." She bowed and ran off, back to the market, her thoughts racing just as fast as her legs.

Enjolras stood there for a good minute after she had left. He could hardly remember the things she had said. The embrace, a sign of relief and gratitude, had caught him off guard. He shut his eyes close for a moment to compose him self. He wasn't quite sure what annoyed him most: the display of physical contact in public, or the fact that she left him stunned as she ran away, or because she was right about the amount of women he was now aware of, who were either fuming or dejected having seen what Eponine had done only moments ago. He took off with long strides to distance himself from their eyes, and eventually realized that he was moving towards the wrong direction. As he got back on track, he admitted that the young Mademoiselle is indeed an enigma… a mystery that for now must be left unsolved if he wants his apology to hold any credibility. And besides, there is no time to get derailed; he has a revolution to plan.

* * *

-Enjolras seems to get lost in his thoughts a lot... and he'll continue to do so in the future chaps. Understand that although he does entertain his thoughts often, the idea that his thoughts is screaming something else other than Patria are and will continue to be kicking him off balance.

-Eponine, had shown gentleness in this chap. We have to remember that although she can kick ass, according to Mme. Laurice some chaps back, "you are (Eponine is) merely a girl."

So, a truce eh? Let's see where this will lead to...

I have a couple of chaps already drafted, and I probably will be putting them up soon. Reviews would highly encourage me to do so. :) I always love hearing from you.

Anyway, hope you liked this bit. Montparnasse and The Boys, up next!


	9. Chapter 9

"Mademoiselle!" Eponine looked around to see where the little voice came from. There, in front of their stall, barely noticeable behind the stack of fruits was a little gamine. She couldn't be any older than 7, her face was covered with dirt and the cap on her head had holes on them. "A letter for you!" She squeaked as she raised her hand to give the letter. Eponine regarded the little girl who reminded her so much of the life she had lived. With a sad smile on her face she reached for a few coins in her purse, a couple of sous she dropped in Madame's box and took an apple in exchange. She gave the girl the apple and the rest of the coins as she reached for the letter. The little girl was ecstatic and thanked her profusely before running away.

The note revealed nothing more than a time of day written between the names of two streets. She easily understood the message. The position of the time meant that the place of meeting would be on neither street mentioned but on the street in between them. The time in itself, written as 17:38, meant that she was expected by 5 in the afternoon, at the 38th building on the middle street. It was a simple code she, Azelma, and Montparnasse had devised years ago.

* * *

Just as the note had called for, she found herself knocking on the door of a rather new tenement. She wondered if this was one of Parnasse's safe houses or if he rented it just for today. An old gentleman, who gave her directions to go straight up the 3rd floor and knock on the second door to her left, greeted her at the door. Upon knocking she heard Parnasse's voice telling her to come in. She came in to see Montparnasse regarding himself in the mirror fixing his cravat.

"Have a date for tonight, Parnasse?" She said upon entering, closing the door with her foot.

He saw her smile from behind him through the mirror. "Of some sort, yes." He checked himself over and turned to face Eponine when he was satisfied with what he saw. Eponine sat down on his desk, a habit of hers that he didn't mind. "I heard you've found trouble again the other night?"

"I knew you'd learn about it soon enough."

"It was a nasty gash you left on his face. I'd have to say, Im proud, I've taught you well. Babet wasn't pleased to see his son in such a state though, but when he found out it was you, he merely chuckled much to the lad's disappointment. He's still very fond of you, that old rat." His eyes was searching her for any signs of an attack, perhaps a bruise or a scar. Guillaume swore that he did not hurt Eponine, but he didn't trust Babet's son therefore needing to see Eponine in person. But he realized the man feared him enough to speak the truth for she appeared to be fine.

"That oaf is Babet's son?" She asked, perplexed by the idea of it. Babet would never hit a woman. Yes he was a wanted man, one of the most sought for because he was a talented one who managed to jump from one scheme to another. But despite his fame in the slums, never has it been said that Babet has laid a hand on woman without her approval. Nor did he scam or harass them. He was indeed quite fond of Eponine, it delighted him that this young woman could outwit and outmatch most of the men he knew, and with that he held her with respect and to a certain degree, fondness. A fondness that far exceeded the little she received from her own father.

"Yes, the bastard happened to find his father when Babet was on one of his journeys to the south. Never thought he'd be reunited with his son, and he'd swear to you that it's the stupidest thing he has ever allowed to happen." He chuckled. "Good for you and I both. Had it been any other I would have been forced to get rid of them least they try to seek you for revenge."

Eponine shuddered visibly. She knew of her friend's crimes, most of it he'd do for money, some of it though, especially in the past, he'd do for her and Azelma. Not that they had ever asked him to do so, but he would do it to appease himself. They've never spoken about it, but she knew it was him who made a bloody pulp of the bastard who tried to force himself on her. She knew he was the reason why the old creep, who had been following Azelma with malicious intent, disappeared for a few days only to get back to civilization with half a leg missing.

Often time Parnasse would resort to intimidation, but when he's especially angered and the girls inexplicably horrified or hurt, he'd take things to a whole new level of severity that scared the wits out of the men involved, that is if they were left to live another day. It didn't take long for people to understand that the Thernadier girls were not to be messed with, not only because they knew how to defend themselves, not even because of Patron Minette. They soon became immune to the dangers of the slums because of one man, one name – Montparnasse.

The young man had earned his reputation and the demand for his services doubled. Years ago, when the girls were still part of the schemes and crimes of Patron Minette, he'd use his money to pay Thernardier, without the knowledge of the rest of the gang, to allow the girls to sit some of the more dangerous operations out. He'd also use the same tactics when he knew the man was in an unforgivably desperate state wherein he'd result to selling one of his daughters. He'd pretend to have indulged in pleasures of the flesh with either Eponine or Azelma, when in fact he'd give them his bed, and he'd sleep sitting up with his back against the bedframe on the floor, as if even in the depths of slumber, watching for their safety.

He paid a hefty sum, which Thernardier accepted greedily. When the men used to ask him why he continued living in such a bad state and with his old garbs despite his known penchant for style, he'd reply, "I'm saving." "Saving for what?" They would ask. Little did they know that "saving who", would have been a more appropriate question.

Montparnasse was their watchdog. The gossips would say it was because he was having his way with the sisters and didn't intend to share. Word was about that he was always with them because the girls' father had promised one or the other's hand in marriage in exchange of his participation in Patron Minette. Little did anyone know, and not that he'd ever admit but he stood by them and fought their battles, because he was in love.

Eponine studied the room as Montparnasse went about collecting his things. Just as the young man put a small pistol in the bag he was packing, her gaze landed on a red rose by the small table near the door. She hopped down and crossed the room to pick the flower up, Montparnasse's eyes followed her and they turned noticeably guarded when she finally had the rose in her hand.

"Who's this for now, Parnasse?" She inquired, her voice oddly hollow.

"It's best you don't know." He said as zip the bag shut and stood up.

"I don't understand why you can't let all this go."

"Not everyone can be like you, Ponine. This is all I know, and all I will ever be good for."

"You haven't even tried." She countered, frustration seeping into her words.

"I'm way in too deep, you know that."

They've had this conversation before. She'd ask him to leave his crimes behind, to start over just as she had. He'd tell her that it's too late for him, or that he can't afford to do so because the cops are never too far away for him to stop running. Words will be thrown around and countered, frustration will hang heavily around them and in the end knowing that the other would not be swayed, they'll take a step back both feeling empty and defeated. She would feel so because she had failed once again to convince him. He would feel so because he really did feel like he has been digging his own grave and that no one could help him out of it.

"You make me worry about you too much, Parnasse. Azelma would be too if she were here." She sighed. When they were together the memory of Azelma always hovered above them. Missing her in moments like this made the longing intensify.

He placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Come now, Ponine, let's walk out together. I need to be going." He stepped to open the door and they exited.

Once they were out the door, Eponine said, "The little girl you sent earlier, her eyes reminded me of Zelma's." To this, the young man smiled.

"Her name is Lizette, we're friends." Eponine had to laugh at this.

"Good. I like that. Maybe she'll convince you to stay out of trouble." She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Do take care."

"Always do." He bent down a little to plant a subtle kiss on her forehead. He added in a serious note, "Babet may have kept him out of your path for now, Ponine. But, he is stupid, and despite knowing about me – perhaps even because of me – if he sees you again, he might forget about his father's threat… Keep safe."

"Stay safe." She whispered for he was now a good distance away, walking with long strides. She took off for the other direction, another thing they'd do when parting ways. Having no particular place to be in and knowing that Gavroche was again with Courfeyrac, she settled into wandering the Parisian streets retreating to her thoughts.

* * *

Just as she was about to round a corner, a force caused her to fall, a flurry of papers rained around her and a noticeable weight had landed on her. Blinking in confusion, she saw that the force, or rather, the man who knocked her off balance was Marius. He had an apologetic look on his face as he mumbled his apologies in between low curses as he started picking the pamphlets up. Eponine began helping him, not entirely sure of what was happening. They stood up when all the pamphlets were safely tucked in their arms, and for the first time Marius regarded the girl and recognition lit his eyes.

"Eponine! Oh God. I'm so sorry. I was in a hurry to get these to the café I wasn't watching my way. Im really really sorry, mademoiselle." Marius said, embarrassed by his lack of manners a while ago. "We've managed to gather a few more students to our cause and there's a meeting going on now to orient them. I need to get these there." He was mumbling while gesturing to the pamphlets in their arms. He then asked politely, "If it's not too much to ask, perhaps could you help me bring these? It would not stand well if I dropped these a second time. They're quite the handful."

"Oh, of course." Eponine replied. "Besides, I have nothing better to do. Perhaps I'll collect Gavroche while Im there," she thought.

* * *

_HEY! So that's Parnasse for you. How'd you like my take on him? Interested?_

_As promised, a little look at The Boys up next! It was supposed to be in this chap too, but it made it way too long. _

_Thank you once again for following and for the reviews. Comments and thoughts are highly appreciated. I'd really like to hear what you think about this Montparnasse. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

When they arrived at the Musain, Eponine and Marius had to squeeze themselves to get through the sea of young men that flooded the tiny café's back room. Marius had begun giving the pamphlets away and she was about to do so as well when Courfeyrac retrieved them from her after giving her a kiss on the cheek to say hello, after which he got swallowed by the crowd again.

She noticed that Grantaire and Joly were there as well. On the other side of the room was Combeferre, standing behind Elodie who was seated next to the only other woman present. And then up on the table speaking loudly and exuding charisma, was Enjolras. When she saw him and heard of what he spoke off, her attention was locked on him and she barely registered Gavroche, looking proud, sitting on the table where he stood.

"The crown could not be bothered to look down and see the state of Patria's people on the streets. These people are dying everyday from hunger, from their poor state of health, from having nowhere warm to spend a cold night. They are suffering while he lounges in his extravagant home, taking advantage of France's richness that we, the people, have rights to as well. How long will we let those blind men govern us? How much more will the people have to take before they experience change? I tell you now my friends, the time is drawing near, our numbers are growing and soon we will be able to influence a change that will promise a better tomorrow for everyone." A cheer erupted from the men, Enjolras smiled, the fire in his eyes burning brighter.

"Pretty words." Eponine mused as she continued to watch the young revolutionary. She stood in the corner fixated on him, yet somehow not as impressed as everybody else seemed to be.

He continued, "We will need to strategize and gather more supporters, we will have to go to the streets and reach out to the people we are fighting for. We will have to gather resources and funds. I will personally reach out to Lamarque; to have his support will greatly empower our crusade. Our brothers outside Paris must be contacted, we have to coordinate our efforts with theirs. Charters must be drafted and the path to a republic must be studied thoroughly in order for a smooth conversion once we overthrow the king." He swept his eyes through the room looking at the faces of his comrades as he let them absorb his words and the weight of their mission. Everyone seemed to understand, and he was satisfied enough that he did not bother himself with the fact that Grantaire was falling of his chair in his drunken state, Joly desperately and barely keeping him in place. "Gentlemen, this is not a game for rich young boys to play. We are standing at the edge of a revolution, bloodshed is inevitable, and there is a lot of work required to succeed… a lot of sacrifices to be made. So I ask of you, will you stand with me? Will you fight for Patria?"

Another cheer erupted as some of the men stood up. Gavroche shouted, "Vive la France!" and the men echoed enthusiastically. Eponine stood in her corner with her arms crossed, observing the initial reactions of the men before her brother had shouted. She recorded it in her mind, and had anyone asked, she'd tell him or her that Combeferre retreated to his thoughts at the mention of revolution with a look of concentration on his face that could have been mistaken as contest, while some of the others seemed to have come to life at the idea of putting up a fight. She'd say that Marius was furiously jotting down notes, only once looking up when Enjolras indicated the need for new charters. She'd tell you how the women turned pale as a look of deep concern and anxiety crossed their faces when he spoke of bloodshed. Elodie had reached up to lay a gentle hand on the back of the chair where Combeferre's rested, while the other woman scanned the room and locked eyes with Joly, who offered her a reassuring smile, before moving again to eye another gentleman. With Joly distracted, Eponine would recount with amusement how Grantaire had fallen with a thud that was left unnoticed, as the room was held captive to Enjolras' words, and how the man had raised his bottle when they started to cheer despite the cluelessness that was evident on his drowsy face. They all appeared to have been moved by their chief's words in one way or the other. Most of them looked determined and inspired, there were some others though who seemed almost frightened and unsure. But hearing Gavroche's young voice shouting with just as much passion and fervor as the man he shared the table with, had quelled any doubt in the men's hearts and had ignited even more the men who already believed, as they all united for one sure shout for France.

The room was abuzz with planning and debates as the men spoke about their plans and decided on the best course of action. Eponine, still in her corner, listened in catching a line or two from the conversations around her. She shook her head slightly; her brows furrowed and concern radiated. "_School boys running around with guns for the people in the streets who wont even get to know their names_." She thought, and then added in a whisper, "this will not end well."

"What will not end well Ponine?" Courfeyrac had made his way back to Eponine, remembering only moments ago that she was there.

Surprised at the intrusion, yet not at all upset, she sighed and looked straight ahead at the men. They could see Combeferre and Enjolras with their backs to them just a table away from them engaged in a heavy discussion with three others regarding ammunition: the necessity and the lack of it. "This. All this, Courf." She said, her voice low, cautious at being heard.

Courfeyrac looked solemn when she ventured a look at him. Despite the millions of questions and defenses that he was entertaining in his head, he simply inquired, "Why not?"

"They do not know you, how can you expect them to trust you? The people you fight for, these people you hope who will fight with you, they are afraid. Getting them to trust you – to follow you – to, what seems to me, the grave could possibly be the biggest challenge you and your men will have to face." When Courfeyrac stood silent and still she continued, "The men you hope to take arms with you, those men have families and mouths to feed. Without them, their children will die in hunger, their sisters and daughters will succumb to prostitution, and their brothers will turn to crime in desperation. And then what will become of them? Nothing!

"You rich brave men think you can conquer the world and change it because you will it… so used to getting what you want. You say you fight for the hungry, for the oppressed, for the orphans and the abandoned… but have you ever, even for minute in a day of your life, gone so low and felt their plight? I'm guessing the answer is no, and that monsieur, is your biggest barrier. You have to get someone who understands if you wish to get to them. Most of the people of your social class will not stir as well because they are too comfortable. They do not care." She paused, there were still a lot of things she wanted to say, but an overwhelming mix of feelings begged her to stop. She motioned with a tilt of her head to where the five who discussed about ammunition stood, Combeferre had been speaking and for a while now while the others listened. "They think of guns and bullets already, when they yet have bodies to use them. I believe there is need for change, please do not get me wrong. But as to if this room of young men could bring it, I fear, I am hesitant." She found it peculiar that her voice shook as she said the words. Courfeyrac stood facing the men with an empty gaze as her words cut deep.

She hastily apologized for being too forward then excuse herself to leave and have asked for Courfeyrac to bring Gavroche home, which he agreed to with a nod. The heavy feeling in her chest was too strong to ignore, and she found it unbearable to stay in the café any longer.

* * *

As the gentle sounds of her footsteps on the creaking stairs disappeared, Enjolras turned to find Courfeyrac, looking defeated and anxious. He heard everything the young woman had said, it was the reason why Combeferre had managed to openly and freely defend his stand, his desire for change to be brought up without the ring of gunshot, without interruption from his chief. He heard her voice, simply because it stood out in a room of male voices, and strained to catch her every word. He needed not concentrate too hard because her words captivated him and had ignited a spur in him that had left him with a desire to defend his beliefs and their crusade.

* * *

He felt appalled at her words so much so that even hours after, they still had the power to drag him back to his thoughts leaving him unable to finish his speech for the next rally. He had often thought of what might happen if they did not succeed, and of the consequences: death or the chain gang – which to him was pretty much the same. But, he learned that pondering over the possibility of failure only caused him doubt, and he knew well he shouldn't, and so he had trained himself to push those thoughts back and concentrate on planning for the revolution. He knew that his friends shared the same doubts, but never had he encountered these doubts voiced out with excruciatingly simple words and haunting honesty.

He needed to clear his head. After tucking his ruffled white shirt, he grabbed his coat and headed out the door. A walk, he decided, was called for.

* * *

_Sending a __**big thank you**__ to those who reviewed, followed and made this story a favorite of theirs. Reading your reviews really push me to go on with the story. And the __**response to Parnasse's character is overwhelming**__... im considering writing a sort of prequel (when i manage to finish this one) focusing on the life Ponine, Zelma and Parnasse lived before this story. Hmmm... what do you think? any interested readers out there? Funny, Im actually worried that more will fall in love with him than with Enjolras at this point. _

_Anyway, ok, have to focus on this one first. I hope I didn't bore you with this chapter. I might not be able to update as soon. I'm still trying to iron out the details, I believe i'm at a crucial point where things could go south very fast, so I'll be taking my time... __**I do hope you'll be patient with me.**_

_Please let me know your thoughts on the development of the story. Insights and suggestions are very much needed at this point.__** Leave me a review, send the story some love. :)**_


	11. Chapter 11

Eponine flipped herself once again, careful not to stir Gavroche's sleeping form. She was finding it increasingly difficult to fall asleep, as her thoughts screamed louder as the silence of night stretched. After running away from the café earlier, she had rushed home and changed into the clothes she wore as a gamine and quickly exited the tenement without anyone knowing.

She headed for the slums; cautious of the time she had before her brother was due home and Montparnasse's warning about Guillaume. She pulled her cap low on her head concealed her eyes and dirtied her face as she went around.

She took everything in: the smell of vomit and piss, the sight of children almost naked in the streets whose bones stuck out disturbingly, she could hear drunken men and the beggars' calls, she could feel the dirt clinging to her skin and she could almost taste the acid creeping up her mouth threatening to make her sick.

Now on her bed, she recalled the things she saw and the things she felt; she recalled how not so long ago she was there, living among them and Azelma was still alive. Try as she might, but it was difficult for her to not think about Azelma when she thought of her life in the slums or the other way around. She took her leave earlier firstly because she feared revealing herself to Courfeyrac. Her familiarity with the life they wished to change would raise suspicions, and she was starting to get emotional over it then.

As she was walking earlier, she also thought about the bloodshed. She thought about Grantaire, his blood mingling with the wine from the shattered bottle. She pictured Combeferre's body limp and cold while Elodie sobs and cries for him to wake up. She thought about the men in the café, how young they will die. And then her thoughts drifted to Enjolras, he would die as the symbol of revolution yet the people will not remember him. And despite herself, she thought about Gavroche, the young boy would surely be there amongst his brothers unless she locks him up for his own safety. She couldn't bear to think about her brother staring lifelessly up to the heavens, blood spilling out of his little body.

The thoughts were replaying in her head on a loop that made her act as if she was moving in a trance. When Gavroche arrived earlier, he took notice of it and worried but thought better to bother her, instead giving his sister a warm embrace before getting ready for bed and willingly went to sleep.

After hours of tossing and turning, Eponine realized she wont be getting any sleep, and once again taking advantage of the fact that Gavroche was deep in slumber, she slipped out of her nightgown and into her simplest clothes and grabbed her coat from the chair near the door where her dagger was too. She put both on before venturing outside.

* * *

Enjolras has been walking aimlessly along the river for about an hour now. He concentrated on the beating of his heart and his breathing, and was satisfied when his mind began to come to peace.

On the other side of the river, a little figure walked with light steps, her hands buried deep in her pockets. Unlike our young gentleman, her mind was nowhere near being at peace. The usual musing and daydreaming that happened in her solitary midnight walks was replaced by the same thoughts mentioned earlier, only now with less intensity.

She scanned the area and noticed a man on the opposite side. He seemed ruffled, yet his movement reflected calmness. She would've mistaken him for some stranger, but the unmistakably red fabric of this coat shown even with the little light the Seine had provided and the tricolor badge shown proudly on his chest. She halted and watched as he crossed the bridge and stopped to lean against the railing somewhere in the middle. When he didn't move for minutes, Eponine decided to go to him.

Enjolras didn't hear her coming. He didn't even see her when she situated herself merely a meter away from him on the bridge. It only dawned on him that he was no longer alone when he heard an all-too-familiar voice to his left.

"After what you've been through, I didn't expect to see you alone so late at night, monsieur." When he took a moment to look at her, he saw her staring at the Notre Dame, just as he did before she arrived.

Her voice caused the thoughts he worked hard to silence to come back with a vengeance. He tensed, yet unlike before, he caught himself before giving in to the mess of questions in his head. He breathed in deeply and replied, "Is this a habit of yours? Walking the streets of Paris at night, mademoiselle?"

She strained to hear the hint of accusation in his words, but found none. "One that is quite hard to break… I actually enjoy searching for men in distress, I quite like playing the hero." She ventured to joke, her tone playful, and was rewarded when she saw the corner of his mouth turn up to smile.

"I couldn't sleep."

She raised a brow, mildly amused. "Me neither. What's keeping you?"

"I was wondering if there's another damsel in distress to save tonight." He said. Unlike Eponine his tone was serious but his features was struggling and failing to match his voice, to this she laughed.

"This is rather strange, don't you think, you and I?" She said breaking the comfortable silence that fell around them. "Night seems to conspire for us to meet."

"Perhaps we're drawn to it because it offers a sense of tranquility that we both yearn."

"Perhaps." The silence fell once again as they both stared at the majestic cathedral. Unconscious of how silent their thoughts have been, now that their bodies seemed awake with the warmth radiating from the other.

* * *

After a few minutes of just standing still beside each other, Enjolras spoke, his voice soft. "I heard everything you said earlier."

"_Just my luck_." She thought to herself. She then replied, "We're going to argue about it aren't we?" She turned to look at Enjolras, "You're going to tell me that I was wrong, and that I shouldn't have planted a seed of doubt in Courfeyrac. And then I'm going to want to prove my point, and in doing so I'm going to be terribly upset. And the peace that this night has offered us will be for nothing. Must we really speak about this?"

He too turned to look at her she looked tired. "What are we missing?"

"I…" Eponine was wide eyed. She didn't expect this. "You're not telling me I am wrong?"

"Mademoiselle, I believe you merely voiced our fears as much as I detest to admit it."

"What are you missing…" She drifted, taking a moment to compose her thoughts. "Well firstly, you don't know the people and the people don't know you. Yes, they've seen you on top of crates and podiums, but to them, you are merely a young student with fancy ideas that captivate them for a while before they have to face their lives again. You give them pamphlets when most of them can't read, and would do better with the sou you used to pay for it. You speak to them with beautiful but complicated words – words that will not stick with them for too long…"

Enjolras listened to this young woman intently as she explained her thoughts. He didn't dare interrupt or question her ideas, and he admitted he found it odd that he didn't. She was giving him another perspective, one that his friends even failed to cover.

"…you speak of ammunition, that's good. But you need to remember that you don't have people to use them yet. Concentrate on getting them to fight for this first. I'd hate to think what would happen if you and your friends continue to move in haste." She spoke the last line slowly and almost to a whisper, her eyes showing concern.

He was contemplating on resting a hand on her arm to give her some comfort when she spoke again, "they are dreamers, monsieur, dreamers who've been given too many nightmares that they've forgotten how to dream. Tell them what they want to hear, besides, isn't it the same as what this revolution will bring if it succeeds? Stir not only their hatred for the crown, but also their dreams for their families… you'll find that it'll be a better flame to feed."

Their eyes met and they held it like that for a while. Enjolras was silent, his features telling her he understood. His eyes were intense and she could see the passion this man had for change burning in his blue orbs. She blinked, suddenly apprehensive, as the bells of the cathedral signaled the hour after midnight.

"I probably should be going. I hope you'll get to sleep well, monsieur. Bon nuit." She motioned to go and turned, but before she could take a step further, Enjolras had reached for her arm and kept her in place. She turned to look at the young man, confused.

"I... I would like for you to come to our meetings mademoiselle, you have sound ideas that I think would be valuable to us."

She nodded, unable to speak and overly aware of the warm hand on her arm and the way the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, giving her chills.

"Would you like me to walk you home?" The question startled Eponine, it went against Enjolras' whole being. Not that he was not a gentleman but because he could not understand the nature of his proposition or the unmistakable urge to stay in her presence for a little longer. But asking anyway, felt right to him.

She scoffed good-humoredly, "Perhaps you've forgotten how capable I am in defending myself, monsieur. I think it should be me asking you if you want me to walk you home."

Enjolras let go of Eponine to cross his arms on his chest, and she almost wished she didn't make that jest. She feared that she might have set him on one of his moods again, but when she registered the look on his face, she found him with a perfect brow raised and a lopsided smile to match. He looked like he was ready to take on a challenge.

"Really, don't worry about me, I can manage on my own." With that said, Eponine once again turned and left. Enjolras stood there looking on as her figure disappeared. He let out a small laugh, thinking to himself "_What an unusual woman that one is._"

* * *

_Ok, I know I said it was going to take me long to update, but I had this chapter in hand already so I figured: WHY NOT? _

_I know my Enjolras is not as cold and guarded as others would write him, but then again, almost all of my major characters are out of the usual too. I'm just worried that you may not like this Enjolras as much.. What do you think?_

_Sending my love. How bout sending some back? review please._

_*the law of demand and supply applies here. so the more reviews/follows/favorites the sooner the updates. not that i'm forcing anyone, it just really does help with the writing process... motivation, if you will. :) _


	12. Chapter 12

Enjolras had sent word for Eponine earlier in the morning telling her that the Amis were to hold a meeting later in the day and that he would highly appreciate her presence. Just a few minutes before the meeting started, Eponine appeared and Enjolras sighed in relief because he almost thought she wouldn't show.

His friends were surprised to see another person enter, and even more so when they realized it was a woman. The others, who had met Eponine before, took it among themselves to introduce her to the lot. Combeferre managed to send Enjolras an unspoken question regarding her presence, to which their chief only nodded as if demanding patience.

She sat between Jehan and Courfeyrac towards the middle of the table and listened as Enjolras brought up the topics for evaluation for this afternoon, but before he delved into them one by one he addressed Courfeyrac.

"Courfeyrac, would you please tell everyone what this young woman told you after our last meeting." He said as he took his seat, lending him everyone's attention. Courfeyrac, although confused at the order did not hesitate to do as he was told. Eponine, however, wasn't quite comfortable hearing her words and seeing their reactions. She sent Enjolras a glare that didn't go unnoticed by him and Grantaire. Grantaire, unusually sober, made a note to observe his chief and Ponine much closer; he figured there's more to it than meets the eye

When Courfeyrac finished, the men were uncharacteristically quiet just as he was when he first heard her thoughts. Enjolras was calm and allowed his men to think about what they just heard; he could see Eponine shifting uncomfortably in her seat a bit flushed. He let another beat pass then stood up and spoke with a solemn voice.

"I know it's overwhelming to hear our doubts said with such simplicity and honesty. Her view is indeed quite different from the rest of us, and that is exactly why we need her here. She will provide us a view of what we fail to see so we can plan better. The Mademoiselle has a way of putting things into perspective that will make any man think twice."

"You included, Enjolras?" Grantaire ventured, everyone turned to see Enjolras' reaction, which normally would be to glare at and reprimand Grantaire, but this time, to their surprise one side of his lips tilted slightly up, a response was not to be heard. He thought, "_Yes, myself included._

The meeting went smoothly and Eponine participated little by little with encouragement from Courfeyrac and Marius. At the end of it, the men regarded her with respect, quite convinced that her mind was just as sharp as her tongue. Enjolras was secretly proud of her, and was glad to have asked her to come. The men who were broken by her words earlier were now renewed and reawakened. The weight of the revolution now obvious to all of them, and they understood better now why it could not be allowed to fail.

* * *

The Amis meetings have been twice as productive and entertaining with Eponine in the picture. They were able to cover much more but despite the additional work, witnessing Enjolras challenged and questioned by Eponine made the whole endeavor manageable. Enjolras would be pitching plans of action, and Eponine would see all the little cracks to his plan and point it out one by one. Enjolras, who was not used to having his plans questioned so bluntly, didn't take the criticism easily. They would debate about it, and sometimes things would get so intense that they'd raise their voices but somewhere along their heated argument, one would realize the other's point and their voices would go back to normal as they reach an agreement. Sometimes after, you'd see them huddled together over a document, revising it, or she'd leave Enjolras to his work while she look over other things with the other men as if they hadn't been shouting at each other moments earlier.

Eponine wasn't only regarded with respect but with awe as well. She had painted a picture of Paris' lowest strata of society with so much detail that helped the men understand and see their surrounding with a better take. Her explanation of the psychology of the masses was spot on, that they secretly questioned how or why she knew about it.

* * *

It was the night of the fifth meeting she has attended, and with the necessary things covered and discussed, the men were free to go for the bottles as some of their lovers made their attendance as the night progressed. It was a Friday night, and the men took their books aside for a much-needed break, all except for Enjolras who claimed the table near the window and drowned himself in work once again. Eponine was offered a bottle by Courfeyrac, and was amidst hearing Feuilly and Bahorel recount their childhood roaming and terrorizing the streets of Paris. Gavroche sat with them, between Elodie and Jehan, grinning to the stories he had no trouble relating to.

It was known to everyone that Feuilly, the fan-maker, was an orphan who bettered himself with mostly his own efforts. He was a gamin and knew the life of the streets to an impressive extent, but was sheltered as well when he met the man who taught him the art of fan making. Bahorel, although much more fortunate than Feuilly and enough to be considered wealthy, had spent his early years exploring the streets of Paris much to his parents' chagrin, meeting the acquaintance of some of the streets most notable and shady people, and have participated in more tiffs and spats than his years in total. But between them, they held no competition to what Eponine, or even Gavroche alone, had experienced and know about the thoroughfares of Paris.

"You should've seen the bakers' faces! It was hilarious!" Bahorel recounted a prank he and a friend did when he was just a boy. His friend Mariette, a gamine with bright red hair, was the mastermind of the spectacle, and he recalled her with such fondness. "I wish I could've found her after that winter though, I was away to visit family in the south, and when I got back I could no longer find her."

A memory flickered in Eponine's head, two young boys -much too young- one was seriously ill, the other was cold, white and has been dead for a few hours. She recalled her father's face when he realized who they were, and how he pulled Eponine away when two women made their appearance screaming at her father to leave them be. She remembered secretly listening to her parents that night, when they thought she had been sleeping.

She remembered feeling chills when she found out that the boys were the same children her parents sold a few years back. The same chills ran through her now and before Eponine could hold back, she blurted with anger, guilt and sadness heavily weighing her words, "children of the streets don't last for long. Not all of them are allowed the chance to grow up."

There was an uncomfortable pause between the friends until Jehan spoke up, "Eponine, you seem to know a lot about the life on the streets. You speak of it with so much vehemence and understanding that you could easily convince anyone that you've lived such a life."

Gavroche could tell that his sister had grown tense with what Jehan had said, any threat of talking about their past life would always get his sister riled up; a look of worry appeared on the young boy's face. He was about to pounce to her defense with a plan at distraction, when she replied bitingly, "Is there a question in there, monsieur?"

"_Oh now you've done it!_" Gavroche thought. He cringed as he prepared for an outburst.

From across the room, Enjolras finally looked up from his work. Despite all the times he didn't participate in his friends' gossips and conversation, he would take into listening in while working. The words Eponine uttered were the same words she said to him when he was trying to figure her out. He realized she was turning defensive, and concentrated on hearing the rest of the conversation.

Upon hearing Eponine's tone, Jehan turned pale. It was the tone she used when arguing with their chief, especially when she was on the verge of shouting. The young man's gentle soul, didn't want to be on the receiving end of her ire.

"I… well… ummm" Jehan was a pity to behold. He was stuttering, yet the men around them feared to interrupt. "I was just wondering, how you could tell with… umm… such… precision?"

"It's none of your concern, Jehan." Seeing the terrified look in his face, she softened and said calmly. And then she thought to herself "_It's an explanation better left untold._"

"Geeez, why must you be such a mystery Ponine?" said Grantaire as he came over to join them. The men could feel the ice break, and was grateful for Grantaire. "But then again, what is a woman without a little bit of mystery, eh?" He added with a sultry voice as he bent behind Eponine's seat, his head perched gently on her shoulder. He finished with a slight peck on her cheek which earned him a glare and an attempt at intimidation from Gavroche.

To this Eponine, Elodie and Musichetta managed to laugh. A healthy splash of pink appeared on Eponine's cheeks as the men joined in. Enjolras could not deny that she looked beautiful, despite how his mind was demanding him to question her evasiveness once again. "_There is something about her that she wants none of us to discover. What could she have to hide?_"

The conversation turned to a more serious one, which bored Gavroche to the point of him sleeping where he sat. Enjolras, having left his work when Eponine snapped at Jehan, was just outside their circle with a bottle in his hand, still carefully observing Eponine. He could tell that Eponine had turned guarded ever since the exchange earlier, and even though she seemed involved in the conversation, it was obvious that she felt uneasy. Upon realizing that Gavroche was already sleeping, she stood up to excuse herself.

"Please excuse me, I believe I have to take the little one and myself home." She said to them. Courfeyrac, who sat by Grantaire motioned to get up as well knowing that the little boy will have to be carried home, but he didn't make it up on his feet as he felt a strong hand keeping him on his seat. "What the?" he said as he turned to Grantaire. The drunk merely tipped his chin, pointing something out, Courfeyrac finally noticed Enjolras going for the boy and beating Eponine to it by mere seconds. He was not quite sure what he was seeing, it didn't make sense. Everybody knew Courfeyrac was responsible for Gavroche when Eponine wasn't around, and he took the boy home every time. Why was Enjolras doing his job now? He continued sitting there with his jaw hanging while Grantaire merely hid his amusement with another swig.

Surprised wouldn't even begin to cover the way she felt when she saw another pair of arms which didn't belong to Courfeyrac lifting Gavroche up. Before she could protest she heard him say, "I'll walk you both home."

"We will be perfectly fine on our own, Enjolars."

"I know." He replied simply as he crossed the room to collect his belongings. Gavroche was sleeping still on one of his arms, as the other gathered his things to his bag. Finishing his task, he turned to face his friends who all looked dumbfounded, "Bon nuit, mon amis. Á demain!" He turned to leave, without waiting for a response. Eponine followed him down the stairs in a trance.

* * *

_Well, what do you think? I've had this ready a couple of days back, but I wasn't so sure about it so had to do some tweaking here and there. I hope you enjoyed it anyway.  
_

_Okay, more E/É on the following chapters. Parnasse will be back soon. Cosette might say hello (any objections?). _

_Thanks for all the love this story has received... eagerly looking forward to more. leave a review :) _


	13. Chapter 13

They walked a couple of minutes in silence. Eponine was still in a daze, wondering what had taken over Enjolras – the marble man, as his friends would call him – to show such gentleness. Not to say that the man was harsh, but he was always so formal to a point of stiffness. And although no one would doubt that he valued his friends, his seeming lack of interest about the details of their personal lives was enough for him to be deemed indifferent by those who didn't know better. Outside Les Amis, he was known to only care about the revolution and his Patria… "_This is completely out of his league,_" Eponine thought, "_What has gotten in to him?"_

Enjolras willed himself to concentrate on the fact that he was carrying Gavroche. Now alone in the streets with Eponine, he pondered deeply what unknown force have pushed him into doing this. Back at the café earlier, when Eponine was about to leave, there was a click in his head and the next thing he knew, he had Gavroche in his arms and was bidding his friends good bye. He'd later reason that he was merely being a gentleman, despite knowing that Courfeyrac was going to have volunteered had he not.

"You do know that you will have to lead me, right?" Enjolras stopped to look at her, and realized that he disrupted her musings.

"Oh. Right, well…" She scanned her surroundings, and then without another word turned right. To say that they felt awkward would be a huge understatement.

Enjolras wanted to ask her about earlier: why she seemed to evade personal questions, why she snapped at Jehan for asking such an innocent question or why she continued to be so shielding. But with his past experience with the young lady, he tried to control his curiosity. It was not long after that he realized that they weren't much different; he too didn't appreciate being forced to answer when he didn't want to. There were things better left unspoken of, and beyond people's knowledge.

Eponine stopped, bringing Enjolras back from his thoughts. He eyed the old tenement and was quite surprised when he felt a warm hand on his arm. Eponine was trying to collect Gavroche from him, but he didn't release his hold.

"I'll walk you up."

Seeing no point of arguing with him, she simply nodded and headed for their little attic. Once there, she opened the door and motioned for him to come in. He laid Gavroche on the mattress and stood up, allowing Eponine to fuss over her brother.

"I'll see you to the door, just give me a moment." Eponine said. He moved to the entrance to wait and observed her tuck Gavroche in, pulling his shoes off, and taking all the unnecessary clothing off the boy. She pushed his hair to the side, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she leaned down to kiss the boy good night. Enjolras stood there, leaning on the doorframe, completely relaxed. The tenderness he had just witnessed contrasted beautifully with the fierceness that she usually showed him and his friends at the café.

* * *

"Thank you, Enjolras." She said, offering him a small smile. They were standing near the main door of the tenement. "But you do know that Courf would've brought us home even if you didn't, right?"

"I know. I just thought, perhaps I could save you from Courfeyrac's curiosity to your earlier reaction." She raised a brow, quite unsure of how he managed to come up with a rather sound excuse. He was quite unsure as well. "I've come to learn that to press you with questions you don't want to answer, will only lead to a rather heated argument and probably the snatching of a book or two."

Her smile grew wide in appreciation. "_Nice to see you're using that head of yours for something other than the revolution," _she wanted to say.

"Good night, Eponine!" He said quietly as he made to leave. He didn't wait for her reply as he started walking, but before he could get too far, he heard her call out.

"Monsieur, would you like to go for a walk? I could use a bit of night's peace." She looked unsure, like she was getting ready for the rejection that she was expecting from him. After all, he was still their marble leader who had no time for other things other than his precious Patria.

Enjolras took a moment to comprehend her proposition and stared at the young woman standing by the door. With a slight tilt of his head, he responded, "a walk would be nice."

Eponine came to his side and they began to walk at a slow pace. Enjoying the calm of the night, his thoughts wandered and he heard Jehan's words threatening to echo in his head. "_To have someone to fall into step beside you..." _He shook his head, refusing to let the thought finish, it was a silly of him anyway.

"What's on your mind?" she asked dreamily, as she continued to look forward.

"Just something that Jehan once spouted out. You know how he gets." He replied before thinking twice.

"He's such a good poet. His words will win the hearts of so many young women, and so many young men will want to claim it as their own."

"That, he is. But Courfeyrac does better with the ladies. Jehan is too gentle and not a bit as aggressive as Courfeyrac." Eponine could not help herself and laughed.

"Courfeyrac is such a charmer. He's a sweet man, and I'm just grateful for how he looks out for Gavroche. I mean, Vroche practically has the whole Amis behind him - and I cannot express how thankful I am about that - but he sees Courf the most like the big brother he's never had."

"They could be a handful sometimes."

"Oh without a doubt, and don't even get me started when Grantaire joins in. Silly man, always at some level inebriated, why does he always drink?" She turned her head to look at him as they walked.

"I'm not quite sure. But as big as a fool he tends to make of himself, he is by no means any less loyal than anyone of the Amis. He's actually quite the believer, despite his cynicism."

"I know. I can tell. When he's not too drunk, when he's actually capable of listening, I can see just how highly he thinks of you." She observed how his eyes seem to gleam as he lowered his gaze to the ground. He really did care for his brothers, and despite how annoying and infuriating Grantaire tends to get he was no exception to this. She continued, "I can tell you're closest to Combeferre and Marius. Have you known them long?"

He looked straight up again, a charming smile appeared on his face. "We grew up together as kids only separated when Marius came to live here with his grandfather after his father passed. Combeferre and I followed to pursue our studies. I know them both well – too well – from all the times we've spent together and they know me best amongst the Amis."

"Is it true then, what I've heard about Marius?" She asked, an obvious mix of curiosity and hilarity filled her eyes.

"What about him?"

"That he once fell so utterly and sickeningly in love that you told him…"

Enjolras stopped to look her in the eye as he cut her off, "…no one cares about his lonely soul? Is it true I said that?" He smirked, as Eponine's eyes grew wide.

"You did? Truly?" She managed to say before bursting into laughter.

They continued to talk of their friends as they walked side by side, the calm of the night holding them in an embrace. Later on, they'd realize that they had not talked about the revolution, not their doubts or their plans. He had not given in to the mystery that was Eponine and asked questions that would, with no doubt, irritate her. She did not bring up his political views or the elusive side of him that she was seeing only as they spoke. They held their curiosity at bay, but it was still there; hushed but still conscious.

They were simply two people talking about dear friends. She realized that he wasn't so detached after all. He realized he could and did care for more than just Patria. They realized that it was rather nice to escape, if not only for hours, from the increasing call for revolution.

And this was how it started, their night wanderings.

* * *

Sometimes they'd start off from the café when they'd get held back for too long from working on a speech or a pamphlet. Most times, they'd start out on their own, and drawn by familiarity, they're paths would cross and commence from there. These were never planned, they just happen.

It wasn't a daily habit of theirs since Enjolras had his studies and planning to work on, and Eponine had Gavroche to take care of. But the frequency of their wanderings together increased as time passed. Their relationship has far exceeded that of a chief and one of his advisers; it has come to be one of unmistakable friendship. None of the Amis would've made anything out of it, because once they were at work, any traces of their strolls and conversations were left outside the door. No one but them knew about their rendezvous at night.

Just as their personal connection took some improvement, so did the Amis work with the revolution. They had not only decided to reach out to the poor, but to their fellow bourgeois as well. The work exhausted them, but now the idea of success seemed to be more believable. Their hard work coupled with Courfeyrac holding them together by reminding them of their brotherhood, with Eponine's guidance in terms of the poor, and Combeferre's advances with their class, finished with Enjolras' leadership and stirring words, it seems that Les Amis was making some noticeable progress, but with it the attention of the police. To say that the pressure and stress was on, would be an understatement.

During their walks though, never would they talk about revolution or their works. The same things they avoided and managed to ignore the first night, were the same topics they carefully tread around to elude; an unspoken rule.

They would talk and argue about random things from books to music, to what happened earlier at work with Madame Laurice to the things he learned in his classes. They would wonder about grand ideas concerning life and the universe, and they wondered too why the old man by the Marais had his coat on backward. Nothing could be too petty or too important for them to not discuss. On their own Enjolras was just another young man, and Eponine was just another young woman finding solace in one another.

* * *

On one of those nights, they were conferring about Marius.

"I noticed it before you even lost your temper." Eponine said simply.

"No doubt he's fallen unreasonably with another stranger he passed on one of his walks in the Luxemburg." Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more so.

They had their backs to the railing of the side of a bridge, quite unnoticeable. "This happens often?" Eponine had a comically terrified look plastered on her face.

"No, but when it does, he gets even more distracting than Grantaire and…" He stopped, noticing that Eponine was focused on something else and was no longer listening to his rant. He followed her gaze, and there scurrying on the other side of the street, not too far from where they stood, was a distinctive figure - one they both knew well.

"Speak of the devil! Come!" Eponine whispered, a giddy tone lacing her words as she tugged at Enjolras' arm before he could say anything else. "Stay quiet."

* * *

_Drama? yes, yes, it will come. I know it's taking a bit long, but I promise it's coming soon. :) Just had to build it up._

_Once again, thank you for those who've patiently followed the story. Review please - good or bad._


	14. Chapter 14

Eponine hasn't done it in so long, but spying came easily to her, it was a game she's mastered. Enjolras attention was torn between the awe he held for Eponine's talent in being stealthy, and the feel of her small hand on his wrist as they followed Marius, easily blending into the shadows.

They have followed Marius to a small quiet street, while keeping their distance. He lingered close to a vast expanse of bricks and vines, and stopped in front of a barely noticeable gate where he pulled one of the bars and disappeared behind it.

Eponine dropped Enjolras' arm and scuttled to the gate where their friend disappeared to, he awkwardly followed behind. "This is not his house, I gather." He heard Eponine mutter, "This is no good, I can't see from here."

Enjolras, quite confused as to how they've managed to end up in this situation, was left to stare, speechless, as Eponine started to climb a small tree without difficulty despite her skirt. Upon reaching the height of the wall, she moved to perch herself on the hedge. As she realized Enjolras still had his feet on the ground, she motioned for him to join her.

When he finally made it next to her, he was well beyond annoyed. It was not only because he found this whole thing ridiculous and childish, he was also not pleased at Eponine's attempts at suppressing her laughter when he slipped so ungracefully as he was climbing earlier. "What on earth are we doing here?" He hissed.

"You are no fun. Now hush! I want to see this girl Marius is so distracted with." Her smile gleamed in the dark as she turned her body slightly with her hands firmly planted on the wall, so she could see the faces of the two figures seated on a bench. Enjolras could not help but indulge her.

There were hush whispers exchanged between the two. They caught a couple of sickeningly sweet lines that made them both cringe. Just as they could barely hear them, Eponine thought it safe for her to whisper, "Enjolras?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you ever been in love before?" knowing about his stand on women and relationships, she added, "Even a little?"

Enjolras, having not heard this question in a long time, not since their earlier days as The Amis, knotted his brows. Eponine continued to look at him demanding an answer. "No." He didn't even bother to explain.

"Not even a little taken by a pretty face?" She coaxed. "A charming smile? A witty line from a mademoiselle?"

"No." he answered immediately without thinking, growing more annoyed than he originally was. Pretty faces were by no means a scarcity to him, especially in recent years with his mother's attempts at finding him a suitable fiancé. And although he did appreciate beauty, and has once or twice appreciated a line from one of those women, he had never thought of any of them fondly. Just as he felt confident with his hasty answer, an image flickered in his head and made him look away.

"They say it's quite a beautiful thing, falling in love…" her words were quiet, her gaze landing once again on the lovebirds on the bench.

"Have you?" He carefully returned his gaze to the woman sitting merely inches from him. Eponine shook her head as response.

Just when Eponine was about to give up at getting a look at the face of the mademoiselle, one of her hands lost its grip, making her lose her balance, and almost falling to the ground on the other side of the wall had it not been for Enjolras' strong arm which swooped to encircle her waist, pulling her close to him, as the other caught on a nearby branch to steady themselves. Their eyes locked, both wide with panic. She felt their chests rising and falling as one, finally realizing that her hands flew to grasp his coat to steady herself. They sat there for another heartbeat.

And if that was not enough to urge them to leave, the mention of a name had made Eponine tense before hurriedly making her way down. Enjolras did not miss the look of recognition in her eyes when Marius uttered the name: Cosette.

Eponine knew he saw everything, so just as Enjolras fell into step with her again; she spoke stiffly without sparing him a glance. "Don't ask."

* * *

Five nights had passed since that night at Rue Plumet.

Five nights had passed without her seeing any of the Amis. Despite their inquiries made through Gavroche, she has stayed away from the cafe.

Five nights had passed without her seeing Enjolras. Though she knew he wouldn't bring it up because she told him not to, she couldn't stand facing him with a heavy question hanging above them.

But truly, the reason why she stayed away was simply because of her fear of the chance of seeing the root of her worries in the flesh.

It took Eponine a lot of effort to put the other night's encounter in the back of her head, and when she realized it was an impossible task, she came back to the house at Rue Plumet the other night without Enjolras, and confirmed that the girl who Marius had fallen in love with was no other than the girl who used to work in their little inn years ago; a segment of her past threatening to mingle with her present.

Past life mingling with present life, wasn't something she ever wanted to deal with.

She entertained the idea of detaching herself from Marius and the Amis. She was contemplating on shutting herself out: no more meetings to attend, no more goofing around with Grantaire and Courfeyrac, no more gossips with Chetta and Elodie, no more arguments with Enjolras… Enjolras! No more conversations and walks at night?

She didn't want that, yes, that was safe. But she wasn't so keen on safe, anyway...

No, although she would find it hard to explain out loud, she knew she didn't want to give it up.

She realized that she now held a certain fondness in her heart for the young revolutionary. The man who could so easily push her to the edge of her patience and temper, can just as easily take her mind to a journey with his words and the stories he shared with her. His captivating voice and his elusive smiles were becoming a vice she welcomed. Despite the warning bells ringing in her head, she allowed the thoughts of their wanderings to decide for her.

_They were arguing about Voltaire and Rousseau, Eponine taking the side of the first and Enjolras of the second. So engrossed in their heated discussion, they had failed to take note of the heavy clouds above them and the clap of thunder from afar. It was too late when both realized that rain was upon them. She had tried to run for cover, she heard his footsteps falling a little bit behind her but then Enjolras had stopped, a silly grin on his face that she's never seen before. She remembered questioning his sanity, just before he said, "Had I known earlier, I would've saved myself from so many arguments. Had I known earlier that it only takes a little fall of rain for you to run away like that." The look on her face must have been hilarious because he began to laugh, and he tilted to face the heavens welcoming the raindrops with a smile. "A little fall of rain can't ever hurt you, Eponine." She felt her heart flutter._

She found herself wondering whether the weird sensation in her chest then was because of the memory of the sound of his laughter or the smile on his face or the way he uttered her name… she still hasn't figured it out. She shook her head and reasoned furiously that it was simply because of the chilling rain.

_It was a cloudless night, and the stars shone brightly. She had somehow dragged Enjolras inside a park closed for the night, climbing over the wall. All his protests were petty, and he surrendered when she had said, "And you call your self a rebel!?" They ended up on the grass, where they laid side by side watching the stars. He had taken into telling her about the constellations and when he asked, pointing to a certain spot, if it were the one she wanted know about next, she had moved her head close to his and placed her small hand on his as she directed him to the right one. The jolt she felt at the contact got her distracted enough that she couldn't recall anything except the way his breathing hitched for a second before beginning his tale._

She could feel the rush of blood to her cheeks, a blush appeared on her face, but before she could chastise herself for it another memory rushed in.

_They were walking near the Opera one night, a beautiful waltz rang through the air. She had started to dance about her arms out stretched holding on to the invisible partner as she moved, ignoring the look she was sure Enjolras was wearing at her ridiculous show. She had shut her eyes close, a small smile appeared on her face. And then just as the music climbed, she felt a hand on her back and another in her palm changing her simple steps into an elegant display. Her smile had gone full grown, as the music moved them. When the song started its decline, she opened her eyes and found him looking peacefully at her. "I would have never figured you to move a woman's body with such grace." She had told him, he replied with a captivating smirk, which stirred funny feelings in her._

She felt a shiver run through her spine, suddenly missing the feel of his hands on her.

"_Now how did that happen?_" She had asked herself, trying to ignore the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc inside of her. It made her giddy and it made her want to scold herself; she felt blissful and yet guarded still when she was with him. All this things were scaring the wits out of her, yet she's never felt so alive before. "_Stop being silly, Ponine! Damn it. Stop -"_

"EPONINE!" Madame Laurice shook her out of her reverie. "Dear child, where have your thoughts taken you?"

"I… I…" She stuttered, deeply disoriented and embarrassed to be caught at it. "Sorry."

"Perhaps I should have asked _to whom_?" The old woman raised a brow and laughed, as Eponine blushed some more. "You better get going, we're done here today. Go."

Eponine managed to mumble another apology before kissing Madame's cheek goodbye. Once again alone with her thoughts, she realized that she really didn't have much of an option, so with her mind firmly decided she trudged on.

Whatever threat Cosette's presence brought was by no means more important to what she would have to sacrifice if she decided to go the other way. Five days after that night, she finally convinced herself that staying away wasn't an option. And besides, Cosette might not even remember her, and Enjolras has learned when to stop asking questions.

"Perhaps it won't turn so bad." Eponine whispered to herself as she made her way to the Musain.

* * *

_There is some sort of deep powerful magic lacing Ramin and Hadley's voices because before I started listening to them, this chapter was a thousand words shorter. And I was about to pass it up as it was, a thousand words less. _

_Now, let me know if the magic has done any good, or not. Should I go on?_

_Thoughts? :) _


	15. Chapter 15

He was worried when he couldn't find Eponine on the streets last night, or the night before, or the three nights before that. He knew he shouldn't have expected her due to one reason or the other, which was normal since their meetings were never planned anyways, but intuition told him that it had something to do with that girl Pontmercy was still raving about. What was her name? Ah yes, Cosette.

Enjolras was pacing in the back room of the Musain, their earlier rally ended up in chaos when the police caught them by surprise. They barely had time to escape, and he was sure arrests were made. In his irritated state, a dozen of things weighed heavily on his thoughts.

_Where was Marius?  
How many were arrested?  
The arrests will set them back for sure.  
Some of the Amis hasn't gotten back yet…_

And then by some sort of pull, every now and again, despite himself it would go back to Eponine.

_Will she be here for the meeting?  
If not, will their paths cross later tonight?  
Is she okay?  
What happened the other night?_

He shook his head in frustration, running his fingers through his already ruffled hair. His lack of sleep and anxiety was clearly taking a toll on him. He hasn't been able to sleep well since that night as he so desperately tried to silence the questions in his mind. As the days passed without seeing Eponine, his patience with everyone and everything seemed to shorten, and his friends have noticed. His concentration waned much too often, that Combeferre had ordered him to go home early the other night to get a full night's sleep, suspicions were confirmed when he did not even bother to refuse.

He's been hearing the boys asking Gavroche about Eponine, and he would secretly listen in, wishing he'd figure something out, but all they got from Gavroche was an apology from his sister and an excuse that she was busy with errands and such.

His pacing was put to stop when a lull in the conversations around him fell. His eyes snapped to the direction of the stairs, where Grantaire, Bahorel and Bossuet entered. Grantaire looked devastated, a broken bottle in his hands, the last drops of alcohol landing on the floor. Bossuet's lower lip was bleeding and he was holding a pack of ice to his cheek. Bahorel, who entered last, looked furious, ignoring the blood dripping from an ugly gash on his cheeks.

The tension in the room was palpable. Everyone stared at the trio who just entered, lost for words. Their chief spoke, "What happened?" He eyed them menacingly, his words escaping through clenched teeth, cold. His temper barely masked.

Grantaire, wouldn't look him in the eye. Bossuet refused to say anything as Joly fussed over him. Bahorel looked defiant, his stance spoke to tell them this wasn't his fault. He spoke up, "Grantaire here couldn't walk straight, and a cop almost got to him. As you can see, our escape didn't go quite as smoothly." He gestured with both arms, a tired sarcastic glint shone in his eyes.

"Grantaire! How many times?" Enjolras' eyes burned with fury. Of all the irresponsible men, he got stuck with the worst. His fist clenched at his sides. "And you! Couldn't you have just avoided another fight?" Asking Bahorel.

"If I didn't do anything, you'd be claiming our asses down at the prison and risking your precious little revolution by doing so. Tell me a beating wasn't worth it." Bahorel replied bitingly. "And if Grantaire could just get his lips off the bottle, then we wouldn't be having this problem!"

If possible, Grantaire looked even more somber. He was bracing himself for Enjolras' onslaught of words. He cringed as he heard his fearless chief start.

Enjolras was beyond livid, he finally snapped. The focus of his ire and dismay withered under his gaze and was blistered by his words. Even Bahorel, flinched as some of it was flung his way. Combeferre didn't even bother to reason with him, Enjolras was past the edge. Everybody had their attention on the lashing before them that none of them realized that someone else had entered.

As she stood at the landing of the second floor at the Musain, she cocked her head to the side, wondering if she made the right decision. _"If I slip away now, perhaps they wouldn't notice."_

She has never seen Enjolras so riled up, when they argued his eyes lit up with eagerness, always fierce but never furious, unlike now. He would always be willing to push her with his opinion and words, but he was never so angry about it for her to see it as an attack. Although she couldn't see him fully, she could tell as she looked at Grantaire that this was different.

It was the look on Grantaire's face that made her stay. He looked like a small animal cornered by a wild beast, a look that she'd seen way too many times on different faces before. It was a look she didn't settle with well, pity swelled inside her.

She stood back for a few seconds to plan her move. She was by no means a stranger to a room full of rowdy and angry men in the middle of a heated argument or even a fistfight, her days with Patron Minette had taught her how to deal with such a situation. She stood to her full height, her eyes focused on her target as she slowly made her way to him.

As she reached Enjolras side, she moved to place her small but firm hand on his upper arm. Her body merely an inch away from his back, and she felt him stiffen, surprised by the touch. Everybody had their eyes on her, sending her worried and warning looks fearing Enjolras would turn his wrath on her.

She felt him about to pull away and probably go back to his assault, but before he could do anything else, she leaned in to say with a voice strong and commanding, "Stand down, Enjolras."

Her time with Patron Minette taught her many things. This was one of them. Sometimes a weapon is useless to stop a man with a target; sometimes it only takes a firm word and a gentle hand to ease him to composure. This was how Azelma calmed Montparnasse when they found him in a state not much different to what Enjolras was in. She had tried to scream at him to stop, her threats were brushed aside. But Azelma, she knew what to do. What she has yet to understand is that this only works under specific circumstances.

She could feel Enjolras relax in her grip, as she heard his heavy breathing taking over his heated words. His head fell as his gaze wandered the floor. Slowly the men around her recovered as well trying to break the tension in the air by pretending that nothing intense had just happened.

Eponine saw Combeferre nod his head at her, a silent show of gratitude. She was aware of the fight Enjolras had inside of him, as guilt and a still flaming fury battled on. She slipped her hand in his, and he squeezed it immediately.

Enjolras finally took time to look at his friends' faces, having her hand in his has given him a sort of assurance that he didn't quite comprehend. Combeferre shook his head in disappointment, and a flood of remorse hit him hard. Courfeyrac was up and about mending what he so undoubtedly damaged. Bahorel grinned at him; it really was mind-boggling how this man found entertainment in situations like these. And finally his eyes landed on Grantaire, and he felt his heart plummet to his feet.

Just as he was about to turn to Eponine, he felt her grip tightened and heard a gasp from behind him. He turned and caught two figures making their way up the stairs. It was Marius and the girl, Cosette.

The Amis were surprised and thankful for the distraction. Marius, in his blissful ignorance and the charming young lady brought radiance to the room that lifted their moods. The pair was diversion enough that Eponine made it as far as the Musain's door without anyone noticing before she felt someone holding her back.

Enjolras caught her by the hand before she could get away. A look of worry and question dominated his face.

"I'll see you later, I promise." She pleaded. "Please, let me go now."

"Enjolras! A word." He heard Courfeyrac bounding down the stairs.

His grip slackened and Eponine took this chance to pull her hand away. As his eyes followed Eponine's form as it mingled with the crowd, he wondered how many times he will have to let her go before she can give him any answer to his growing list of questions.

* * *

Eponine stood at the same bridge where they saw Marius pass as she waited for Enjolras. She knew he was still curious about the whole matter concerning Cosette, but she brushed it off. Now more than ever, she needed their easy conversation and their peaceful walks. She had little doubt that he needed it as much as her, given the spectacle she walked in earlier in the evening.

The night was quiet a handful of people wandering around. There was a slight chill in the air, as Eponine searched for him amongst the passers by, but instead of finding Enjolras she found two people walking hand in hand, completely blissful.

Marius and Cosette were making their way back to the house at Rue Plumet. She allowed her eyes to linger on them for a bit longer than she intended, and she felt a pang of longing in her taking her by surprise. Perhaps Madame Laurice's words were getting to her. She looked away, only to feel a chill running along her spine as her eyes landed on something else.

There, hidden in the shadows, was a man stealthily following the young couple. The unmistakable glint of the blade he hid in his coat was not missed, and Eponine's eyes grew wide at the realization of what Marius and his darling Cosette were about to get in to. As the man moved again, a ray of light that should have caught his face, caught instead a mask. She tensed; she knew only one who could move almost undetectable and who hid behind a façade: Claquesous.

Without any hesitation, knowing fully well this modus operandi, she slowly crouched to lift the side of her skirt claiming the blade in her hand. Cosette might bring her trouble, but Marius was her friend. And even though she'd never admit, she felt an obligation to make up for all the hardships the younger Cosette endured under her parents.

So with her resolve, she followed not quite running but with silent lithe steps as she too took into the shadows; her blade barely hidden between the pleats of her skirt.

She followed them; looking about for any other men that she knew were bound to show up. She was sure the rest of Patron Minette was lurking somewhere near, and to get caught in the dark isn't really an option. Despite knowing that they probably will not hurt her, she feared that with the mask of night, they might attack before recognizing it was she.

She furrowed her brows and set her thoughts aside. "_Eponine, FOCUS!_" She mentally hissed. She took a pause then and squinted her eyes, "_Marius, check. Cosette, check. Claquesous… Claquesous? MERDE!" _Where did he go off too?

Her head kept turning, her eyes furiously searching for the shadow of the third person she was following. In her dismay, she realized Claquesous still lived up to his reputation because he was nowhere to be found.

"_He must've sensed me following. Have I been moving too close? Too noisy?"_ Eponine was starting to lose her composure, she knew well just how terrifying the man was, and to be unrecognized now would be a fatal mistake. Her former colleagues aren't really keen on checking before attacking.

Suddenly it seemed that the night became colder and the street lamps shone less. It seemed to her that suddenly the streets were too quiet. Eponine started to move again, holding the dagger tightly in her hand, tense and twitching in anticipation. She'd be damned if he caught her unprepared. She moved close to walls of the buildings around her, trying to stay hidden.

With every step she took, she heard her heart pounding louder and louder. She watched with a bit of relief when Cosette and Marius made it safely pass the their gate. Hopefully there were other people inside, so that Patron Minette would think twice before entering the grounds. But then again, it was not beyond them to ransack a house with the inhabitants there to witness it.

Just then she felt a big strong hand on her right shoulder, holding her in place. Moving by instinct and fueled by fear and panic, she used her left hand to reach for the wrist and wrapped her hand tightly as she pulled with all her strength. When she heard the man's body hitting the wall beside her, she turned to secure him with her right arm across his upper chest and angled the blade in her hand just so it lingered by his neck.

* * *

Hello my awesome readers! I have no idea what I'm doing.

ANYWAY, how did you like the new chap? Any idea who the person Eponine managed to trap between her and the wall?

Review; please and thank you.


	16. Chapter 16

Her eyes turned fierce and cold as she buried her arm to his body pining him forcefully to the wall. Her hand with the blade turned icy and her heart was wild in her chest. She ventured a look into his eyes and then her composure bro

"What the hell were you thinking? I could have gotten you killed!" She hissed as her nails unconsciously dug their way unto his arm. He winced and suddenly as if finding a strand of sanity again, she let go of his arm. She added, with her blade still too close to his skin, a sigh of relief and immense tension escaped her lips. "Putain, Enjolras!"

They looked at each other, his eyes restless mirroring the hundreds of questions on his mind. She noticed the dark circles under them, making him look tired and older. Her eyes shown confusion, and just beneath it, fear. She had let her weight rest on him, unconsciously resting her form on his, not quite finding the strength yet to pull the blade away. He stood still, breathing heavily, taking her in. She looked strong yet small.

"Eponine, what are you following them for?" He said, his voice that usually rang out with command was barely an anxious whisper.

"It's none of your concern." She groaned her words clipped.

"It is when you're so ready with a blade in your hand. And," He released a small growl, "Would you please get the blade a-" He got cut off as Eponine's free hand covered his mouth. The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty street. "_Too many sets._" Eponine thought, flustered.

"It's _icicaille_." They heard a voice.

He felt Eponine tense again before pulling him by his shirt to a small alcove between two buildings merely noticeable in the night.

Eponine pushed Enjolras first into the small opening, and threw herself into it immediately after. They watched in silence as the men's shadows passed them. There in that small alcove, pressed to each other without an inch to spare, they remained unnoticed. They listened as the other men began to speak, willing their minds to focus on the conversation and not on the fact that they could practically feel every nook and cranny of the other's body.

"Are you sure they're worth our time?"

"The girl, you saw her! She lives in this house, surely there's more of her jewels in it!"

"I don't care! Ge' on with it already!"

"Shut it!"

"I smell profit here!"

Eponine obviously knew who spoke which line, her eyes showing a different emotion each time. Enjolras attention landed on her face again as he watched her shut her eyes close, her jaw hard and clenched. He reached for her hand, unsure if speaking was even an option now.

As his hand closed around hers, she opened her eyes and he found himself unable to look away or to think clearly.

"Stay here." She said, moving to leave. He held her hand tighter and pulled her back.

"What do you think you're doing? There are at least five men out there." His words were heavy with concern that she didn't miss. She just shook her head and tried to move away again. He pulled, "Now is not the time to be stubborn."

"You don't understand! I have to go." She said pulling her hand away. "Now you monsieur, YOU! Don't be stubborn and whatever happens, don't let them know you are here." With one last intense look into his eyes, she shoved him firmly deeper into the alcove. "Promise me." The look in her eyes took him of guard, and when he didn't utter another word, she took his silence as a yes. Upon reaching the opening, she looked back and whispered. "If you trust me, you'll stay."

He couldn't shake the look of surrender in her eyes. Now looking at where her hand was merely seconds ago, he found her blade. He looked up to find her walking up to the men. Her steps were calculated but calm, like she belonged to them.

He stood paralyzed as Eponine neared their circle. He took in the weapons they each held. Worry and fear for Eponine's safety flooded him and he was about to move out to fetch her when he heard her voice, oddly calm and steady.

"G'evening gentlemen! What brings you here?"

"Who goes there?" The old man inspecting the gate turned to say.

"Why, is that you Ponine?" It was Babet who spoke. Montparnasse, who stood near Guillaume, eyed the brute immediately. He saw him twitch at the mention of her name.

"Don't you recognize your own daughter, Papa? It hasn't been long enough." Her words were bitter.

"_Papa?_" Oh if eyeballs could literally roll out of their sockets in shock, Enjolras' would have.

Eponine could not deny the look of sudden guilt that crossed her father's face at her words. But she couldn't find herself to feel the same; this was the man who had taught them to steal and had them participate in so many crimes and schemes without concern of their safety, the man who whored them out when he got desperate, the man who pushed Gavroche out the door, the man who had signed Azelma's death warrant. Whatever he meant to her before all that barely mattered now.

"Missed us, did you? Come to get back to your old life, girlie?" The giant of a man, Gueulemer spoke. His tone was oddly friendly and Eponine could not help but smile a bit.

She felt a crack on the wall she has built in her. She knew Enjolras was listening and watching them. She knew he was smart, and that he'd be able to fit the pieces together.

But if she didn't intervene, who knows what would happen to Marius and Cosette who'd be too focused on each other that she had no doubt they'd be caught by surprise. She didn't trust Patron Minette to just leave them be. She feared Guillaume would try to do to Cosette what he failed to do with Elodie when his father gets preoccupied with some expensive trinket in the house.

"No Gueulemer. Go home. In fact, all of you go home."

"She's gone soft!" Brujon muttered. "Guess it happens to all."

"Oh I don't think so, she fared a hideous scar on Guillaume's face just about a month ago. I think she still has it in her." Gueulemer chuckled, obviously amused at the other's pain. "I dare say, well done, Ponine!"

Guillaume clenched his fists tighter than they already were before. His drunken thoughts were swirling with anger and blind rage. Montparnasse tensed as well, getting Guillaume riled up was not a very good idea. The thought of whatever unknown weapon he has decided to carry with him tonight, worried Montparnasse.

Enjolras strained his eyes for a glimpse of the men. Could it be that one of them was the same man who had assaulted Elodie? He tensed knowing how dangerous he could get, and how these men were just as capable, without a doubt.

But yet Eponine looked as if nothing could go wrong.

She sighed, feigning boredom. "This is all fine and dandy but if you haven't figured, a bunch of shady wanted men with tools in their hands in the middle of a street, doesn't really paint a good picture." Eponine stated, her patience running low fast.

"Get lost, Eponine!" Her father said as he recovered from her cold greeting.

"Gladly. But after you, Papa." Enjolras could still not see their faces and could hardly see who spoke, as the men were close enough to each other to remain undistinguishable in the night. Despite his worry, he held to the promise, because Eponine seemed to be out of danger, and her stance looked quite sure and strong. Enjolras has never been so perplexed in his life, but he had to trust her. She needed him to trust her.

"Go to the devil you bitch! Haven't you caused enough trouble yet?" Guillaume finally spoke, moving in from behind his father swiftly avoiding Montparnasse, who has unsheathed his blade.

"Apparently not enough. I should have cut your tongue when I had the chance." She replied nonchalantly, clearly unfazed.

"I'd appreciate that, useless son that he is, too much a blabber too!" Babet said. Guillaume growled as the other men sniggered.

"Now scram before I call for the cops!"

"Do that and I will beat you!" Thernardier threatened desperately, but to no avail.

"You don't scare me, Papa." _Not anymore. _She smiled, defiant. Her arms crossed. Montparnasse was about to move to her side, the protective side of him dicatating his movements, when he heard Babet spoke.

"None of that!"

"Enough! We've lost too much time and made too much noise. It's not wise to go through with this anymore. _Décarrons_." Brujon said, and turned to walk away, Claquesous already a few steps ahead. Brujon was wise, he knew Eponine would stay true to her threat if they attempted anything remotely inauspicious.

"You'll regret this Ponine! Good for nothing brat!" Her father whispered as he too turned to leave. Gueulemer followed after tipping his hat at Eponine and managing an awkward bow.

Eponine slowly relaxed as one by one the men turned to leave. When she caught Babet's eyes, he said "You are missed, child. You've been too much a stranger." And he left, throwing Guillaume a command to follow. She didn't miss the killer look the oaf gave her before begrudgingly following after his father, mumbling as he did.

At last she was left with Montparnasse who she refused to eye earlier with the other men around. He was still staring at the direction Guillaume had left to, making sure that the shadows swallow him whole. When he at last turned to Eponine, he found her with a stern gaze aimed at him.

"I thought you did not associate with my father any longer?" Her voice was colder and several notches lower than it was with the other men, like she was now suddenly afraid someone would hear. Montparnasse surveyed the area but found no one, he wondered why she felt the need to whisper.

"Brujon arranged for it. I had no idea till earlier tonight." He said, matching her tone. He did not appreciate her accusing question.

"You could have stayed back!"

"Lizette is terribly sick, I need the money." Her gaze softened. A part of her felt relieved that he allowed himself to care for someone new after so long; Lizette to him was Gavroche to her. "I wish you'd never think that I'd ever forgive him, Ponine."

Montparnasse had moved close to her. He reached for her face and tilted it so she was looking directly at him. He whispered, "I never will."

All at once, Eponine felt herself crumble. Her past was catching up with her, no doubt. She hasn't seen her father since the night of Azelma's death, and it was not a scene she'd like to remember. Taking advantage of her father's remorse back then, she took off and started a new life, the life that Azelma had once dreamed about. The raw rage and sorrow she felt back then was enough to dissuade her father to pursue her. Had he done otherwise, she was sure she would've killed the man.

The run in with Patron Minette was a terrible reminder of the ways she has left behind. And then there was Cosette who reminded her of the childhood brimming with promise that betrayed them in the end and left them with broken dreams. The past few days have left her with too much to think about, and too much worry to match, keeping her from sleep. It was simply too much all at once.

Montparnasse held her stare as silent tears rolled down her eyes. He could only count the times he'd seen her cry, and the sight of Eponine now so desperately trying to compose herself despite the tears, made him feel like a failure. After all, didn't he promise Azelma that he'd take care of Eponine?

He gathered her in his arms, and slowly he felt her calm down.

Just as she felt herself beginning to relax at the familiar warmth, she remembered with alarm, Enjolras. He has seen too much. So many of his questions, answered in one night, leaving Eponine completely vulnerable to his judgment. "_What if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore? What does he think of me now? Will he tell everyone else? I am going to lose them."_

Eponine realized with a sudden panic that she had unconsciously let people get close to her again. She allowed herself to care and be cared for in return by someone new, something she has not allowed to happen for a long time. Until now she thought that particular level was exclusive to Gavroche, Montparnasse and Madame Laurice.

These people: Bahorel with his rough playfulness, Feuilly and his art, Bossuet with his ridiculous bad luck, Joly and his adorable misophobia, Chetta with her sarcasm and gossip, Jehan and his devotion to love which she could barely comprehend, Grantaire and his peculiar energy which easily stood out amongst them, Courfeyrac with his easy charm and his abundance of smiles, Marius and the unexpectedly dear friendship they've built, Elodie and the bond that reminded her of what she had with Azelma, Combeferre and his wise words and musings about life that she loved to discuss, and Enjolras with everything that he was –both the infuriating and endearing sides of him, were too close to her heart, that the thought of losing them left her drained.

_I've got something to lose._

A look of confusion appeared on his face at the sight of her worried appearance. He called her name, and it took a couple of heartbeats for her to respond, still lost among thoughts he wished he were privy to. When she did her eyes were guarded, dry.

She said, "Please go."

"But…"

"I will be fine. Go."

"Eponine…"

"Lizette needs you. And I need you to go." She said, carefully enunciating each word as if speaking to a child. Taking in the resolve in Eponine's eyes, he didn't bother to argue further any attempt, he knew, would have been futile. He kissed her forehead, and added with a defeated pitch, "Keep safe."

"Stay safe, Parnasse." She called out to his retreating figure out of habit, the volume of her voice shaking her out of her stupor.

* * *

**A/N:** This one was a real tough one. So many things to consider, and so many characters to tap...

So what do you think? I've had this chapter for the longest time, and I really do apologize for not updating sooner, it's just that it didn't seem ready to me. Quite honestly, Im still not completely happy bout this one, (there's something missing, do you have any idea what it might be?) but I do hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless.

Next chapters should be up soon after this one, they'll be quite heavy. A big thank you to those still following the story, and for those who sent in reviews. Keep up the love, talk to me, throw me a question. :)

OH! OH! Before I forget, I've posted a new fic called _**Clean** **Slate**_ under 'Plays' have a look-see and let me know what you think. Worry not your pretty little head, I have no intentions of abandoning this fic, (or do you think i should?) and I'll stay true to my word that the next update will be up very soon.

**review/PM, yes please!**


	17. Chapter 17

She steeled herself, trying to calm her nerves. There was no point of waiting any longer. She had to face him; she had to know what he thought of her after all that. Wait, was he even still there?

She could picture him as she made her way slowly to the alcove. She'd imagined he'd look confused, he could feel betrayed, but she most probably had simply disgusted him. She imagined him waiting for her with a stern expression, his arms crossed on his chest – the way he'd look every time Grantaire screwed up, perhaps a harsher version of it.

_A street rat pretending to be someone else amongst his band of foolish rich boys._ Oh how he must hate her now for fooling them all. _How repulsed he must be. After all, don't people always think the worse of a street urchin like me?_

This would not be the first time Eponine would be rejected because of her past. It was actually something she had to work to get used to, and although time and practice allowed her to overlook the suspicious stares, the scandalous whispers and the occasional badgering by people who still worry about her past's reputation, this time, she couldn't guarantee that she'd come out of it unscathed.

She was convinced she'd expected right, but was puzzled when she saw Enjolras slumped down on the ground, his head resting on an arm on his knees, his face hidden from her view.

Eponine stood awkwardly for a moment, studying the young man. She wasn't sure if he simply didn't hear her approach or if he was trying to ignore her, so she ventured out to speak. Her voice carefully deprived of emotion, "Monsieur, now you have the answers you've been so desperate to get. What does that make of us?"

When Enjolras didn't reply immediately, or even look up to meet her eyes, she felt herself close, the fiery side of her reconstructing the cracks on her wall quickly, desperately patching up the fractures, frantically attempting to keep it all together; brick by brick. But before it could complete the task, a pang of hurt had escaped and rushed through her, spreading itself like the plague. And she felt exactly like the plague just hit her.

She's never wanted someone to tell her that her past didn't matter more than she did now with Enjolras. For some reason she could not fathom, she needed him to tell her that he didn't care if she was once a thief, a gamine, even occasionally, a whore – one of the scums of Paris. She needed him to tell her that whatever they had –The Amis, their planning, their wanderings – was more important, just as she decided earlier that day.

She could not understand what was making her suffer more: his silence or her sudden vulnerability. His lack of words for the moment, made her feel a ton heavier. Her state of weakness made her furiously hate herself.

Her hands curled tightly into fists, her nails digging through her skin. Her grief painted her features as she felt her shoulders shake, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. _I will not give you the satisfaction of seeing me cry._

She backed a step, and Enjolras must have heard her attempt at leaving because he finally looked up. His blue eyes usually filled with so much fire and strength were now filled with pain that she could not understand. Eponine mistook it as pity, and she did not sit well with pity. He must've finally pieced things together: her past life and the knowledge of the people of the slums.

_Boo hoo! Oh poor little Ponine! _It was her father's voice with his mocking tone that rang in her head. It was the one he used before beating her and Azelma when they were younger. She felt even more defenseless.

"Don't look at me like that." She snapped. And before he realized what she had said and the dismay and hurt in her voice, she turned to leave, sprinting away with heavy steps.

_Run away. Run Away. It will haunt you still, might as well stay..._

Eponine ran, her footfall disturbing the silence, cursing her heavy skirt and for once wishing she had her rags on again. Her tattered skirt would have been fitting for tonight anyway, she felt wretched and she wouldn't have cared one bit if she looked wretched as well.

_SHUT UP! _She mentally screamed. Eponine was feeling her energy leaving her body, making her grow exhausted by the second.

She hasn't gotten too far when she stopped, catching her breath, her tears blurring her vision. She strained to hear if he had come to follow her, she wished she could hear his footsteps, but she didn't. Despite her disappointment, she trudged on, her steps weak and slow, her thoughts distracting her from reality.

A flurry of confusion and grief was making her heart beat faster and her head feel heavy. She could not understand his reaction, but what bothered her most was that she could not understand how she felt as well. She felt like things were slipping out from within her grasp… again.

She has only felt that way once before. The night she'd lost her virtue. The same night Azelma got killed_. _

_There she was, back in that cursed alley, curled up in a ball against Montparnasse's chest, his strong arms holding her close with a certain desperateness and force that she could not ignore. She was shivering from the cold and from what just happened. Just like that, a few pieces of silver for her innocence. Just like that._

_She was swimming in self-pity when he felt something wet fall upon her forehead. Eponine looked up to see Montparnasse crying, and all at once her mind went on full alert. Montparnasse has never shed a tear, not when his mother left him on the streets, not when his brother died freezing so many winters ago. The man simply didn't allow himself to weep._

_The heart that only steadied itself merely moments ago was pumping twice as hard now. She scramble in his embrace to look him squarely in the face. The young man was looking anywhere but her eyes, she shook him. "Parnasse, what's wrong? Tell me." She croaked, fearing the answer she already knew. She knew of only one thing – one person – that could draw out such reactions from him._

_When the assassin finally met her orbs, he uttered, "Azelma." And once again, just like that. Just like that she felt her world falling out of orbit, crashing slowly and inevitably to the dark abyss. _

_How easy it is to lose something or someone so dear. Poof! Just. Like. That._

Eponine was wiping furiously at her eyes. She wanted nothing else but to scream her lungs out until she couldn't breathe. She cursed herself for letting her mind stray to that night after so long. She found without much surprise that it stung just as badly as it did before. This pain was not one to die down with time. No, it was different all together. It was a scar she would bear for the rest of her days.

This was the reason she fought for her past to stay where it belong. No matter how much time and space she placed between her and that night, it still had power to claw itself to the surface at a flicker of their crimes, or a dream of their lives at Montfermeil. She understood that memory could be as much as an enemy as it could be a friend, how easy it betrays you.

Memory made it hard to escape.

It made it hard for her to escape malicious people, who were too quick to judge. Although there were people who had learned to accept her despite her past – Elodie, Madame Laurice, most of the people who worked in the market – she knew there were still others who spoke about it behind her back; others who kept a safe distance from her.

And what of them now?

She could hardly care, because they did not matter to her. "_Enjolras matters? Of course he does, and so does the rest of the Amis, my friends. Shut it Ponine! Why must you be so moved by one man's disapproval? So what if he-"_

She held his breath.

Eyes widened at the sudden noise.

A gunshot rang through the silence of the night making her return to reality. A wave of panic washed over her. "_Enjolras! A prowler could have caught him! He could be hurt!" _She felt her body quiver as it turned cold, her breathing resumed in quick small huffs. "_Or it could be Parnasse. What if a cogne has recognized him?"_

She whirled around to set back to the direction where she came from. But instead of breaking into a rush, she stood paralyzed. There, meters away from her stood Guillaume, a hoary pistol in his hand. Only then did she noticed the throbbing pain on her left shoulder, thick warmth dripping from the source.

With shaking fingers, she examined the wound. Looking up, she saw him moving slowly towards her. His face devoid of emotion, she tried to speak, to warn him to stay away or she'll scream. But before anything could escape her cold lips, darkness fell over her. _Gavroche…_

Her last conscious thought was the feel of her body hitting the cold hard ground.

Falling out of orbit, crashing slowly and inevitably to the dark abyss.

Just like that.

* * *

A/N: Hello people! First off, a great big thank you to those who reviewed, followed, and made this story a fave; awesome, awesome love right there. I hope this chapter served its purpose. I know time and again that I've mentioned that Eponine did not like to speak or think about her past. Well, now we know exactly what it does to her.

This chap was such a challenge to write, I hope I didn't mess up too much. Let me know what you think, sil vous plait! Want to know what Enjolras has to say to all this? **Review/PM please.**

Oh, and please check out **_Clean Slate _**(if you haven't already). It's listed under LesMis-Play. Would greatly appreciate it.


	18. Chapter 18

_A gunshot shook him out of the trance he was in._

_Eponine was the first thing on his mind. Had he really just let her go again? He stood up, supporting himself with a hand on the wall as he fought for balance and then he broke of to a run._

_He felt a petrifying familiarity at the whole situation, but now instead of a scream, he heard a gunshot. From not so far away, he could hear the footfall of another person, hitting the ground just a little bit faster than his were almost making it feel like they were racing to get somewhere. _

_His tracks stopped when he caught two figures, one was standing over a heap of a person, a gun slacking on his hand. His heart held a riot in him and anxiety took over his senses as he realized it was Eponine slumped unconscious on the ground, a pool of blood slowly increasing from the hole on her shoulder._

_He barely took in the presence of another man grabbing Eponine's attacker after he pulled him away from Eponine. The stranger had started beating the dazed man, the gun was left forgotten on the ground. All he knew was that he needed to get help for Eponine._

_He wrapped his arms around her form. Feeling her in his embrace stirred things inside him that he only ever felt with her, but this time instead of the usual confusing bliss it gave him, he only felt his fury clawing it's way out and his blood boiling. He took satisfaction at the sound of breaking bones and whimpers from the man who did this to her. If not for her need of immediate attention, he had no doubt that he would kill the man himself._

_Setting aside his fury, he stood up carefully with Eponine safely against his chest, her head cradled gently under his chin. Just when he was about to turn and leave, the stranger who turned out to be the man 'Parnasse' spoke with a familiar voice that chilled his bones yet again._

_"Where do you think you are taking her?" He stopped his attacks. His bloodied knuckles looked terribly intimidating, ready for another round of assault._

_"I am a friend of hers. The house she was protecting at Rue Plumet is a friend's house. You will find us there." Montparnasse's eyes shown a flicker of recognition, a thought of confirmation entered Enjolras' mind._

_"Make sure she's safe. If anything happens to her…"_

_"You have my word." He threw a hateful look at Guillaume, which Montparnasse did not miss._

_The man simply nodded his head. He turned to run to Marius and Cosette. Before he could put too many steps between them, he heard a sickeningly disturbing howl of pain._

"…_Jolras_, Enjolras! Wake up!" Marius shook him awake. As he batted his eyelids with a crease on his forehead, his breathing obviously labored, his friend added. "Go home. You need to get changed and properly rest." From his seat in the corner, he could see Eponine on the bed.

"Don't worry about Eponine, Monsieur. My maid and I will make sure she's taken cared of." The angelic blonde, Cosette, said as she entered the room where Eponine was rested, still unconscious.

Upon arriving at the gate to the house at Rue Plumet, Enjolras had begun to shout for Marius. Hearing the tone of distress from a familiar voice, Marius and Cosette had rushed out to his aid. Enjolras had immediately ordered Marius to run for Combeferre and Joly, and to tell Courfeyrac –who was living with Combeferre – to take care of Gavroche. Without question, Marius went on his mission as Cosette, her maid, and Enjolras fussed over Eponine.

Enjolras wasn't able to help for too long because the maid, Toussant, had thrown him out the room telling him that he was being of no help with his shaky hands and nervous demeanor. He sat waiting on the floor, anxious. He sat some more after Joly and Combeferre arrived to tend to Eponine. He vaguely remembered Marius sit along side him, asking him about what happened. He didn't say a word.

He didn't say anything when Joly and Combeferre finally emerged from the room, their faces relieved. He didn't say anything as they began to explain her state and assure him and Marius of her safety, and left the latter to go through all the necessary inquiries. He merely nodded to show his gratitude to his friends as they took their leave. He didn't say anything as he attempted to near her bed, but caught himself midway and instead surrendered himself on the chair he eventually fell asleep on hours after. He didn't say anything when Cosette eyed him, whispering to Marius, before they finally headed out the room, leaving him alone with Eponine.

"I will not leave her." He mumbled, the words slipping through his lips with voice cracking. Remnants of the night before and of his nightmare still weighed heavily on his mind and the stress his body endured was taking its toll on him now.

"You have to at least get changed. Joly insists that if you must stay you have to have clean clothes on you. He doesn't want Eponine to get anything because of some dirt you carry on you, her immunity level is quite low." Marius pressed.

"If she wakes up…"

"I will send for you and the Amis. But if any of you wish to come see her, at any time of day, my door is open." Cosette assured him.

"Come on, Enjolras." Marius said before placing a kiss on Cosette's forehead, whispering something to her, which she nodded to in response, a gentle smile brightening her tired face.

Before following his friend out of the door, Enjolras turned to Cosette who was replacing the damp towel on Eponine's head. "Mademoiselle, do you know her? I mean before tonight, have your paths ever crossed?"

He saw Cosette straighten her spine as she stood to her full height, her back to him. "How did you come to this?"

"She recognized you."

"I knew her from when i was younger." Her head slightly turning to look him in the eye, he saw sadness. "I had a hard life back then, her parents are the worst of people."

Seeing the anguish in her eyes, Enjolras simply nodded his head and forced himself to be content with her brief answer for now. "Thank you for..." _the help? a piece of the puzzle? your honesty?_ "…for everything."

He cast one lingering look at Eponine's form before stepping out to join Marius who was waiting patiently by the door for him. As they moved to leave, he found himself still fighting the urge to reach for the broken girl, to lay a gentle hand on hers.

* * *

He and Marius made their way through Paris to their respective homes, sharing the same path for a while. As they walked, Enjolras set his eyes straight and put on a façade that made Marius hold his questions. He was relieved when Marius bid him farewell with an order for him to rest before heading back to Eponine again, as he set off to the opposite direction to his flat.

Now alone and sure that Marius was far-gone, he slipped in the next quiet alley he could find, straying away from the main road. He rested his back against the wall and waited. After a few moments, a man with his hat resting low on his head, his eyes hidden, came to rest an arm's length beside him.

"How is she?" An expected chill ran down his spine. Enjolras had seen him quietly following them, obviously still worried about Eponine.

"You are Parnasse?" From the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw the young man lower his gaze to the ground as if to hide his face.

"That doesn't matter. Just, _please_, answer my question." Frustration and exhaustion weighed his words.

"She's still unconscious. But she's safe. The bullet is out." He heard Montparnasse release a breath of relief. "I would have never left if she was otherwise." He added a little more quietly that Montparnasse wasn't sure if he heard him right. "What of the man who did this to her?"

"Alive. Just barely, but alive nonetheless." His words were drawn out viciously.

"I want him dead." His voice was cold; Montparnasse detected the blood lust on his voice.

"As do I."

"But you couldn't just kill him, could you? His father is one of your mates…" Enjolras said irritated, the accusation that was not left unnoticed. He was seeing red again.

"That is none of your business!"

"I made it mine when I began to care for her." The young assassin could not tell whether the words were merely a slip of tongue or if the young bourgeois intended for him to understand the depth of the relationship he shared with Eponine. He remembered the way Enjolras held Eponine in his arms, gentle and protective in a slightly more intense degree than he had originally expected him to.

For the first time, Montparnasse took a good look at the man beside him. He had recognized him from the rally he escorted Eponine to. He was surprised and relieved to find a familiar face last night. He had learned more of this young student revolutionary from word on the street before last night. He and his friends were indeed a stirring bunch, but they'd be disappointed when they hear that most of the time, they were talked about because of their looks and sophistication; a prince for every gamine's fairytale. _Their revolution will be the death of them._

He remembered that after his fury ebbed away enough to formulate logical thoughts, and Guillaume bloodied and bruised beyond recognition, he had pieced things together. _No wonder Eponine was acting the way she did. She knew someone was listening, and now he knows more than what she was willing to share._ His brow furrowed in contemplation, willing his confusion to turn into something more reasonable.

_Yet… he has not abandoned her? _Despite the mess they were all in, standing beside Enjolras who Montparnasse suspected didn't understand the extent of his own affection at all, he couldn't help but feel a bit of the weight on him beginning to lift. He held his hand to him revealing a small note that Enjolras took. "Send for me as soon as she's awake."

Montparnasse moved to retreat to the darker part of the alley, but he stopped in front of Enjolras. He studied him with unmasked curiosity, staring him straight in the eye and allowing the revolutionary to see him in return. Blue met green.

He told Enjolras, "Knowing Ponine, she hasn't told you much and there's a spectrum of questions you're just begging to get answers to, but you've got to be patient – even more so than you think you've already been. She's lived a tough life, I'll tell you that. Her walls are a mile thick." _But I have a feeling you'll somehow get through. Strange. _"Just... don't be stupid about it, and she'll come around." He added the last bit with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

_It'll take one hell of a man to be able to handle a mess of a woman like her_. Montparnasse resumed his retreat, but he halted for a while when Enjolras spoke again.

"You seem to be on the other side of the wall with her." It wasn't an allegation or a question. It was simply a statement of a fact Enjolras had come to on his own. The other man detected a barely masked tone of envy in his voice. He rolled his eyes, mildly amused.

Without looking back he said, "Only because I got to her before she needed one; I helped her build it." A bittersweet smirk appeared on his face.

Enjolras felt that uncomfortable alien feeling again catching him by surprise, the one that surged in him last night at the sight of Montparnasse with Eponine. He shook his head; he was being irrational.

* * *

"If you trust me." She had said.

Did he trust her? Yes he did. Despite the mysteries and questions surrounding her, Enjolras trusted her as much as he did any of the Amis. But letting her walk away to face the men alone, was it really the only thing he could have done to let her know that he indeed trusted her? _I shouldn't have just let her go._

Enjolras has never felt so tired and drained as he did as he made his way home. The sleepless nights, yesterday's squabble, running around at night following Eponine and the mess that followed were occupying his mind and his body was complaining in vain.

He walked automatically, without much thought. His body willing itself home, moving forward, turning where needed to, avoiding people and potholes on the street as the peculiar conversation between Eponine and the men ran through his mind for what must've been the hundredth time.

_"Why, is that you Ponine?"_

_"Don't you recognize your own daughter, Papa?" _

_"Come to get back to your old life, girlie?" _

_"You don't scare me, Papa"_

_"You've been too much a stranger."_

_Eponine once shared the life those men are living. She was from the slums. Did she participate in their crimes as well? Did the passion and fierceness with which she spoke take its roots from her 'old life'? It makes sense now, her evasiveness, her knowledge, Gavroche's carefree way of exploring the streets, the way the boy lead us to unknown paths to ensure our escapes, Eponine's dagger…_

Enjolras stepped into his flat, carelessly taking off his clothes leaving only his pants on. The dagger that he hid inside his coat was laid carefully at the table by the door. He surrendered himself on the couch where he laid and covered his eyes with an arm.

_Does she think so little of us that she needed to keep this under lock and key? Does she not know that no one will judge her for this?_

Then his thoughts took a turn, to what truly was troubling him.

When at last the men had cleared last night, he slowly felt himself relax and positive that Eponine could actually get out of it unharmed. Though when a figure stayed behind, he could not help but study the man keenly, there was something peculiarly familiar about his stance, which was both protective and gentle towards the girl that contrasted with his built.

He watched them from the little alcove she forced him in to. He wished he could hear what they spoke of but Eponine suddenly lowered her voice, or see the details on their faces to determine their emotions, but in his position and the scarcity of light, he settled with seeing the picture as a whole and barely getting anything out of it.

He remembered seeing them argue. Over what, he didn't seem to have picked up. Eponine stood rigid, so did the man for a second, but soon his shoulders notably slumped as in defeat. The girl softened, as her arms dropped to her sides. He saw him approaching her slowly, and he felt his heart pick up a quick pace again, and he felt tensed – whether it was from worry of the harm he might bring to Eponine, or the sudden bustle of unfamiliar emotions that spurred within him at their intimate proximity, he wasn't quite sure.

And then he saw him touch her cheek.

He saw him pull her close.

Enjolras was beside himself. He didn't feel comfortable being witness to such a thing, not that he had never seen people in an embrace mind you. He has seen it with Joly and Musichetta, as well as with Combeferre and Elodie as of recently. But this… he felt it different whether it was because the person involved was Eponine or the way his jaw automatically tensed, he wasn't able to process. He wanted to look away, and so he did. He clenched his eyes shut and leaned against the wall, desperately trying to quell the storm raging inside him; something he did not quite understand as well.

And then he heard them, and his body gave in to a sharp chill that ran through him. The man's voice stirred a memory. But most of the words didn't matter. The only thing that did was a name; a name that made the nightmare come back to haunt him and with it, the guilt of not being able to save the girl himself. His eyes shot open.

_Parnasse._

The girl, he knew in that instant and without a doubt, was Eponine.

She was the girl he failed to save years ago, and she was the girl he allowed to walk away straight into harm's path just last night. A surge of guilt with renewed strength hit him hard, his thoughts running a riot in his head.

_Will you ever find the heart to forgive me?_

He didn't know when his contemplating turned into slumber, but even in his sleep, Eponine plagued his mind, her face as she turned to leave him brooding and drowning in guilt. Her voice playing over and over again…

_What does that make of us?_

What indeed?

* * *

**A/N: **Apologies for the wait, I've missed so many self-imposed deadlines and Im not happy about it. It's just been a crazy week in the kitchen, and my sacred free time was used for rest. Anyway, enough of this. _What do you think about this chapter?_

I intended it to not be as emotionally driven as last chapter with Eponine as this one revolved around Enjolras, and a bit of Parnasse. Did you notice, or was my attempt futile?

I hope you like the bit with Enjolras and Parnasse, it's probably the part I enjoyed writing the most in this chapter.

OH, and before I forget, I'd like to thank everyone who've been following the story and especially those who reviewed. Response to last chapter was greatly appreciated.

**Reviews? Yes please! **


	19. Chapter 19

Enjolras cursed himself over and over as he made it through the throng of people making their way home at the end of the day. His initial plan of changing and heading back to Eponine's side was thrown out the window the moment he took a seat on his damned couch; the same uncomfortable couch he had slept in for the last 8 hours.

Reaching Cosette's home, Toussant had allowed him in and informed him that Eponine was still unconscious and that Cosette was by her bedside. With a grateful nod, he made his way to the room. He found the door ajar, Cosette's back to him once again; she was holding Eponine's hand and talking to her with gentle soothing words. He wondered if he should go and give them a moment when Cosette's words anchored him to the spot.

"The dolls you and Azelma played with were the most beautiful things. I remembered how you lent one to me one afternoon, only to have it snatched before it even reached my hands. Your maman was furious with me, as she always were, but then you told her to give me the doll. I remember how strong you were even after she slapped you. I knew your cheek must've stung so hard, because I've had those kinds of slaps all the time, but unlike me who was so ready to shed a few tears even after the hundredth one, you held back your tears, defiant and stubborn." Enjolras could hear her pause for breath, when she spoke again there was a slight quiver in her voice. "Back then I wasn't sure if I were sad because I didn't get to play or because after that day you never spoke to me or spared me a glance. I know you're strong Ponine, you'll get through this too."

"You were children together." Cosette spun so fast in her chair with a surprised look plastered on her face that Enjolras realized he must have spoken his thought out loud.

Regaining her composure, Cosette replied, "We were. I once lived with her and her family at an inn they owned at Montfermeil. But that was ages ago, and I haven't seen her till last night."

"What was she like back then?" If the girl was suspicious of any of his inquiries, she didn't let it show, instead she answered his question honestly.

A sad smile appeared on her face, as memories from her childhood came rushing in. "She was a bossy child, always having her younger sister tailing behind her. Her parents showered her with whatever she and her sister wanted, they adored their daughters, but on occasion even they would get on their bad side and get a spanking or sent to bed without a meal. Most of the time though, the punishments were reserved for me. Eponine was never harsh to me, only indifferent. I figured later on that maybe she kept her distance because she feared getting punished for associating with me."

"Punishments?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, monsieur." He noted tears on the brink of falling from her eyes. "Are her parents involved in what happened last night?"

Sure, he'd heard her call one of the men 'Papa' and she'd gotten on his nerves and was left with a threat, but whether or not he was involved with the shooting, he highly doubted. "I am not certain, but from what I know, she hasn't seen them in a while."

Before any more questions were made, Marius, Courfeyrac and Gavroche entered the room. Courfeyrac was obviously doing a good job at keeping the little boy distracted because he still had a smile on his face, although it was ten notches subdued than his usual, it was a smile nonetheless. Enjolras found himself grateful for Courfeyrac.

When Gavroche spotted Enjolras he strode purposefully to him and stopped just a few steps in front of the towering marble man. With his smile gone and his brows knitted, a protective glint in his eyes that painfully reminded Enjolras of Eponine, shown as he began to speak. "What happened?" the boy demanded.

He could feel all the eyes in the room on him, after all, no one did know about the story behind this. He cautiously chose his words, knowing Eponine would have his head if he revealed too much. **_If_**_ she wakes up, nonsense! She will wake up. _

"Gentlemen," addressing Marius and Courfeyrac, "I'd like a private word with Mademoiselle Cosette and Gavroche." Cosette turned to Marius, she had told him a little of the childhood she shared with Eponine after leaving Enjolras in the room the night before. Marius gave her a nod of understanding and dragged a curious Courfeyrac out the door with him.

When their last footfalls were no longer heard, Enjolras stirred Gavroche by his sister's bed. Now standing just beside Cosette he realized it's the closest he's been since laying her there last night. Without bloodied clothes and dirt stained skin from when she fell, she looked almost like nothing was wrong with her, all except for a crease in her forehead that appeared from time to time. It was there now, and he felt a sudden urge to soothe it away.

"Monsieur?" Cosette said, making him face her and the boy again, a small knowing smile on her face was not to be missed.

Enjolras knelt down to the ground to level himself with Gavroche. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, and made sure he was looking him in the eye before he began to speak. "Your sister had a run in with a few men. I don't know who they are but one of them was your father. She called him 'papa'."

Gavroche's eyes widened and the boy visibly paled, a heart beat after though, his eye narrowed. "What business does he have with her? Did he do this to her?"

The anger in the little child's voice reminded him of how Eponine spoke to the man last night. "No, it was not him. Your father –"

"I have no father!"

"He and his men were about to break in to here." He chanced a glance at Cosette who gasped. "She made me promise not to reveal myself and she went to talk to them." He added a little bit ashamed of admitting that he stood idly by as she handled 7 grown men on her own. "Do you know who they were, Gav?"

He saw the child's face contort in deep concentration and doubt. "I cannot tell you who they are. Ponine will be furious with me."

"Gav, the man who did this was one of them."

"Couldn't be, sir. They'd never hurt Ponine."

"Parnasse said he was one of the older men's son."

"You spoke to Montparnasse?" Gavroche's brows furrowed, he was not fond of Montparnasse. He was too sneaky and too secretive for his taste. But Gavroche was merely a child back then, and he'd known little about the truth behind the young man and his sisters, to fully appreciate him.

"He's worried about her. He helped me save her."

"He's a friend of my sisters. That's all I can tell."

"I have reason to believe that the man who shot her is the same man who assaulted Elodie months ago. The same man whom your sister saved me from. It seems that he did this out of spite. Gav, I need to know who these men are." _I need to make him pay._ "Give me a way to find them." Even though he knew he could find Montparnasse, finding the others won't be as easy. And it was clear that the young assassin was not one to betray his comrades.

"You are better off not knowing, Enjolras." The small boy didn't sound his age, he sounded older, more serious. Enjolras almost wanted to give him a grin, he knew the boy was imitating him when he was on a serious mode, yet annoyance over powered his impulse. "Besides if Montparnasse had known about this, the man is probably dead."

Cosette shuddered. Enjolras was quickly becoming frustrated, Gavroche was just as secretive as Eponine, and it wasn't helping him any. "I heard them speak Gav. I know your lives haven't always been like this. I gathered that she was once a part of their little band, and I guess that explains a lot of things. There's no need to keep it from me. I know, if you're worried that Eponine might get mad at you for telling, don't. And for whatever reason you both have for keeping it secret, I want you to know that it doesn't matter to me… just as much as it won't matter with the rest of the Amis. You aren't going to lose anything here."

Gavroche regarded Enjolras as the words sunk in. _Did he really mean it? Will he really not push Ponine away? _He remembered the things his sister endured after leaving Patron Minette. The humiliation, the unfriendly stares and unnecessary shoves were almost enough to make her turn around and get back to the slums where no one dared to judge her and left her be. It took Gavroche all he could to make her stay, and he'd be damned if his friends put her under the same things again.

"Besides, what are we going to tell the rest of the Amis? They will surely come and ask. They worry for her." Enjolras pressed on. _I worry about her._

He waited for the boy to look up to him again and answer his question. "Monsieur," said Cosette, "would you mind if I spoke to Gavroche alone?" her big amber eyes begging him to allow them some space.

Enjolras nodded and stood up, as he did when he exited the room earlier in the day, he casted Eponine a look. He trudged away without saying another word for he found the urge to reach for her hand almost undeniable that it made him uneasy.

As Enjolras entered the receiving room, he expected two sets of eyes to meet him, not ten. Every single one of the Amis were present, including Elodie and Musichetta who are technically part of the Amis by then anyway.

Joly stood up first, inquiring about seeing to Eponine's state of recovery. Enjolras asked him to be a little more patient, as Mademoiselle Cosette and Gavroche were having a private word. Before anyone else could raise a question, the women looking very eager in particular, Combeferre had asked for quick word with Enjolras. He motioned for Marius as well before stepping out to the deserted hallway.

Marius and Combeferre took turns speaking, explaining to Enjolras what they have found out and managed to put together. The first spoke of how his beloved was treated badly by Eponine's parents and how it seemed to her, even at a young age, that the father wasn't beyond hurting his own children. It was nothing Enjolras has not heard for himself from the Mademoiselle, but he let him continue nonetheless.

"That being said, I guess it explains the scars Joly and I found on her last night while we were tending to her wounds. They looked old yet they spoke of rather serious and badly treated injuries. She must have gotten them while living under her parents' roof." Combeferre added, he didn't miss the way his friend's fist curled into balls, or the way his jaw set tensed. The medical student made a mental note to remember that.

"The others have not been told of what Joly and Ferre had discovered, or of what Cosette had imparted to me. And you still have not told us what happened last night. There are a lot of questions hanging about, Enjolras, and I am afraid that if we leave it be, Eponine will be left to face everything on her own."

"I am highly against that, for Eponine should be recovering and not having to worry about inquisitions."

"What do you suggest we do?" Enjolras finally inquired.

"Perhaps, you could tell us what happened? Shed a little light in this whole thing."

Enjolras took in a deep breath, mentally arranging his thoughts, debating whether to just be over with it, or to leave them clueless. But before Enjolras could decide, it seemed as if someone else made the decision for him.

From the other side of the hall, Cosette and Gavroche emerged, the little boy's hand held by the young lady. They were whispering quietly amongst themselves until they stood by the door to the receiving room and met the 3 gentlemen who stood by.

Gavroche let go of Cosette's hand, and headed into the room. The three young men and the mademoiselle followed wordlessly behind him, the latter with a knowing and comforting glint in her eyes directed to both Gavroche and Enjolras.

Things were beginning to unfold at last.

* * *

**A/N:** Are you guys still there? A huge apology for the delay, I've been given a huge load of responsibilities at work, and I've been sick since last week, plus I've been desperate for inspiration... PFFFT. Anyway, I hope you guys still follow this story, I know this chap isn't as intense or interesting as the others, but it is essential.

Thank you again to my loyal followers, and to the new ones as well. Also a big heap of love to those who've reviewed and to those who constantly do so (you know who you are Ü). I always do love hearing from you lot, so please dont forget to **REVIEW.**

PS: I'm gonna make up for this chapter real soon. :)


	20. Chapter 20

"Listen up!" Gavroche felt bigger than he truly was. As all eyes landed on him, he surveyed the room looking each one in the eye, save Cosette, with much audacity as if sizing them up. He bit his lip for a moment then cleared his throat before continuing on, "Right then."

Enjolras crossed his arms on his chest, as he stood by the doorway watching the young boy. He was eager to here what Gavroche was about to say and gave him his full attention. He noted that when the boy swept his eyes across the room, he lingered on him a bit longer than he did with anyone else.

"Have any of you heard about Patron Minette?" He paused and noticed Bahorel, Feuilly and Combeferre nod. "One of the men who runs their shows is called Thenardier, a brilliant con artist and a vicious robber. He once owned an inn in Montfermeil, but he fell into debt and important people found out about his schemes and shooed him away. He left the small town and entered Paris where he met men with similar _hobbies_, and they formed their gang. He's a greedy man, who loves nothing and no one else but money. He had a wife, she died shortly after arriving in Paris." His voice faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained its strength.

"He had 5 kids. The youngest two – boys – he sold to a woman who used them to draw money out of a rich old gentleman. One of them froze to death because she was doing a bloody terrible job at taking care of them. The other one disappeared; some say he was brought to London. Some say he was sold to a family in the south.

The older ones who stayed with him had to '_earn their keep_' and were made to tag along in his crimes to distract the cognes or the victims, or as look out. The first two – both girls – caught his attention with their unlucky skill in sneakiness and persuasion, it didn't help too that they could pack a punch when they needed to. They were quite witty and clever, you see. He used them with all his schemes, if it went well then they would eat, if it had gone haywire, they would be beaten... or worse.

He ruined them so much that they thought they didn't have a choice in life. Sure they dreamed about a better one, but they've always thought they didn't deserve it because of all of the horrible things they've done."

Jehan had been silently weeping ever since the mention of the death of one of the children. Marius was holding Cosette who was in the verge of following Jehan's lead. Feuilly looked livid. Enjolras didn't waver with his stare aimed at Gavroche he was noticeably guarded though, unreadable.

"The middle kid, was kicked out into the street just before the wife died. He was too stubborn to do any of his biddings though the kid was perfect for stealing. He left because he'd rather starve than be told what to do, stubborn little nut. I guess it was a good thing too that he was forced to leave, at least his sisters had less to worry about because he was by far safer in the streets than any of them were at home."

He looked hesitant to go on, his hand found the hem of his shirt and he started fidgeting with it. There was an expectant silence that hung over the room as he once again lifted his gaze to his audience. He saw Cosette give him a small nod of encouragement.

Cosette had been able to convince the young boy that what Enjolras had said about the Amis was right. She carefully and simply pointed out that these men didn't believe in condemnation, except perhaps for the government. She reminded Gavroche that they fought for the unfortunate, for those who've been reused the opportunity to better themselves with employment or education, for the hungry and the sick. By the end of their conversation, Gavroche thought Enjolras would have been proud of Cosette had he heard the way she spoke about the Amis and their cause. It also did help that Cosette promised – albeit good-humoredly – to help him kick their butts if they were dumb enough to judge Ponine.

"The thing is, I guess… What I'm trying to say is… well." Gavroche huffed, seemingly annoyed at himself for fumbling with words. He took a deep breath before his word tumbled out of his mouth so quick that the Amis almost didn't make it out completely. "Ponine and I are his kids. And I swear to God if any of you give her grief about this I'm going to do such horrible things to you, Patron Minette will seem like a bunch of overgrown scabby kittens!"

The little boy held his breath and shut his eyes close after his long speech in fear of someone leaving or shunning them out, but as Enjolras and Cosette predicted, no one left. But they stared and their jaws were either dropped or their lips set to a thin line. Slowly, Gavroche lifted his lids one by one.

No one left. No one made a big deal. No one looked at him differently.

Instead he found a mixture of anger and concern in their eyes. Their look seemed to ask one question: _What kind of vile man would push his children to such an extent?_

"If it weren't for Ponine, I'd still be living in my Elephant at the Bastille. She took me out of the streets and she built this life for us out of scratch." Gavroche added quietly. "If any of you guys hurt her, you'd have to go through me first!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Vroche!" Courfeyrac recovered first. "You both are part of the Amis now, and you've done no wrong by us. If anything, I think I speak for everyone when I say Eponine is one of the strongest people and valuable friend anyone could ever get the pleasure to meet."

The rest nodded their agreement. Musichetta flashed her most charming smile, and Gavroche couldn't help but feel at ease.

"You'll have to think of a better way to get rid of us, Vroche!" Combeferre grinned.

"Hell, if they haven't abandoned me with all the bad luck I'm getting, we sure ain't abandoning both of you." Bossuet added, wistful.

"I'd like to give Thenardier a piece of my mind though," Bahorel mumbled as he cracked his knuckles, a look of understanding settled on Jehan's face, for once agreeing with his trigger-happy friend. Elodie threw her arms open for Gavroche, and he stepped into the embrace bashfully.

Enjolras then took the floor and began to recall what had happened the night before, giving them a short version of the story, leaving out the part where she spoke with Montparnasse and the other involving him and the way they parted. His composure was as stiff and formal as if he was in one of his classes. His voice was carefully groomed to sound tame instead of mirroring the bubbling furry inside his chest that reignited at the thought of the fact that they could have avoided all this had he pulled his wits together and made Eponine stay. He was, once again in that moment, the marble man, devoid of any apparent emotion.

He noticed when Marius pulled Cosette closer into his arms protectively and Elodie shivered as he mentioned Guillaume. And at the end of his tale, he could see a flicker of admiration in their faces while Bahorel and Courfeyrac were obviously furious with the assailant. They kept the silence for a while longer.

What he didn't notice was the way Combeferre's brow furrowed in concentration, detecting that there were parts missing to his story. The philosopher, with his myriad of questions, held his tongue for the moment. Being one of their chief's closest friends, he understood that if Enjolras doesn't mention something to the company, it meant he thought the information relevant to the few. In this case, it seemed like 'the few' only included Enjolras, Cosette and Gavroche. If Enjolras didn't deem it important to tell him, then he would figure it out on his own.

As expected, it was Grantaire who broke the silence, half fueled by alcohol, half by the tension in the room. "Well this big reveal sure is a damper on the whole mysterious vibe Ponine had going on." He shrugged and took a mouthful of ale. "No matter, she's still one of the sultriest ladies in town, right?"

Courfeyrac was first to burst into laughter and Musichetta threw one of the small pillows on the couch hitting Grantaire squarely on the face. Whether it was Grantaire's intention to alleviate the tension or not, the whole room began to burst with life once again.

No one but Cosette noticed how Enjolras reacted to what was said. She made a mental note to remember how the young man's eyes grew wide and a faint blush crept to his cheeks. It was barely noticeable, but Cosette knew a blush when she saw one.

Joly finally was able to return to Eponine's side to check on her condition while Enjolras stood by the door, watching as his friend did his work, and took comfort from the reassurances that Joly quietly uttered. The rest of the Amis fell into a lively conversation with Gavroche answering most of their questions, while they waited for Joly to allow their presence in Eponine's room. They were at awe at how Eponine managed to salvage their lives and moved up in society. Although she was still far from rich, she was at least living an honest life and providing for herself and Gavroche, and that in it self was an admirable achievement.

Bahorel and Feuilly were more interested with their adventures in the streets and Gavroche told them enthusiastically about his elephant and his momes, while Marius and Cosette asked more about Thenardier's wife. The rest took turns asking about random things that Gavroche answered honestly.

A lot of things were discussed, and almost everything important was touched, all but one aspect. The little boy did not speak of Azelma, and no one seemed to have caught on to the fact that he barely mentioned the second child. If anyone should tell them about her, it would not be him. _Ponine should do it._

* * *

As Enjolras resigned himself on his chair for the night, long after his friends have left, he ran through the events of the day, from the conversation with Montparnasse to the one with Cosette. He also found himself going back to Gavroche's revelation.

He glanced at Eponine's sleeping form from where he sat, silently praying for her to wake soon.

With everything he now knew about Eponine, he thought he finally understood the extent of her walls. Why she wanted to keep it all away, why she didn't want them to find out, how she seemed so strong and fierce. And although his thoughts gravitated towards Eponine and Gavroche earlier as the boy told their tale, he couldn't help but wonder, _what happened to the other daughter?_

He pressed the bridge of his nose, willing his mind to spare him some peace.

* * *

**A/N:** And I leave you with this. Had to rewrite and rethink the whole chapter after last chapter's reviews. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

We'd still be digging through Enjolras' thoughts at least for one more chapter after this, I hope you dont mind. And I have to say; I'm more excited about the next one than I am with this. Still ironing things out, but it's almost done, so expect me to update soon.

Let me know what you think about this chapter. **Reviews, please and thank you.**

_I hear the people sing! Do you?_


	21. Chapter 21

Although the days had passed, with Joly's and Combeferre's assurances, the Amis were most certain that Eponine would wake and recover soon. She was a survivor after all, they were sure she'd get out of this one too. Although they worried still, no one was more anxious than Enjolras who had asked the permission of Monsieur Fauchelevent, Cosette's father, to stay night after night to watch over the unconscious Eponine.

The old man had arrived at his house, later the day Gavroche told their story, to find several young people he has never met. Before he could panic though, Cosette had taken him aside and explained everything. She was nervous that his father might not allow Marius to stay, and make her friends leave with Eponine, but her father was a gentle soul and when he had heard of what happened to the girl and how she had saved his daughter and his home from those men, his heart softened and insisted he see her at once.

So ever since that day, the Amis were seen to come and go from the house. During the day, the girls would come and sit with Cosette, and at day's end before retiring to the café the men with Gavroche would drop by. Joly and Combeferre would come when they had time to spare to make sure she was stable and would end up visiting at least twice a day. Jehan would visit in the mornings with fresh flowers everyday, always thoughtful to prepare a bunch for Cosette as well.

And then there was Enjolras, who'd stay all night on his chair by the door, sleeping little and spending the hours either talking to Cosette and her father or finishing some papers. He'd leave early to prepare for his classes, and return with the men at day fall.

It was on the third night of his vigil that Combeferre had stayed back with Enjolras allowing the rest of the Amis to head out. He stayed with the excuse of giving Eponine her last assessment for the day, which was also her fifth – the first four done by Joly. Enjolras sat back in his chair which by then came with a small desk that Cosette had thoughtfully provided him with, his books and papers strewn around him as he worked.

After their friends had left, they've not engaged each other in conversation, deciding to give each other silence so the other could tend to their responsibilities in peace. Combeferre was drifting in and out of concentration, half heartedly admitting that perhaps the frequency of their assessments were in fact ridiculous as Courfeyrac and Grantaire had speculated. Eponine would be fine and the only real question was when she would finally wake, there was no real need to worry.

But despite that, Combeferre couldn't help but notice how often Enjolras' eyes drifted from his notes to the girl on the bed. They weren't obvious gawking glances; they were fleeting and careful in the least, almost as if it were natural for him to check on her state every few minutes or so. His lips turned to curl, as he met his friend's gaze, cocking a questioning brow with it.

Much to his amusement, Enjolras' gaze faltered for a second, a blush rising timidly on his cheeks. But without much time wasted, he caught himself and furrowed his brows in response, as if to dare him to question his actions.

Combeferre's lips gave out a full-blown smile. He couldn't believe it; it was so obvious. He felt stupid for not raising the question that really should have been asked when Enjolras told them of what had happened. Enjolras was about to speak but he interfered by saying, "You've been spending time with her outside the meetings, haven't you? That's why you were together that night. I know she left when Marius and Cosette arrived. So how did it go?"

Enjolras' mouth opened and close for several seconds, the look of bewilderment and guilt dancing in his eyes, he looked like a fish out of water. Combeferre laughed at him.

He bit his cheek before calmly answering his ridiculous friend. "I saw her walking and I followed her here."

"Oh right, cause you left that night saying you were on your way home… but wait! Your place is on the other way from the Musain, no way you could have seen Ponine on her way here, especially when taking into consideration the fact that her home and her place of employment are along this way and opposite from yours." Combeferre dared to challenge, sarcasm tinting his words. "The only logical scenario I can picture here is that you've arranged to meet somewhere… and then you followed her here."

"Get to the point!" _Aha! Is this admittance, Enjolras? _Combeferre's eyes shone with mirth.

"The thing is, you've shown more concern for this girl in the 3 days that she's been unconscious than the years we've known each other in total. Don't get me wrong, I know you care for us all, but this is just on such a different level and it's so peculiar, that I might even be convinced enough to venture saying that you might be caring for Ponine more than a friend normally would. I mean, you don't see Courfeyrac or Elodie stay with her for a whole night, and they're Ponine's closest friends amongst us. Perhaps, my chief, you are falling for her?"

"No such thing. You're starting to sound like Jehan, Philippe. It's unbecoming." Enjolras looked back to his notes, avoiding the look of Combeferre's face. The mention of his first name meant that Enjolras was dropping formalities now; it was a sign of vulnerability. He was tired, and it showed.

"Then, pray tell, why would you calm down at her touch? I haven't forgotten that afternoon. I saw the way you clutched her hand."

"You are being silly."

"I am not, never have been and you know that."

Enjolras shifted in his seat to face Combeferre, regarding him as if he was going insane.

"It is all rather very simple Enjolras. You are here because you care deeply for her. I will not call it love just yet. But there is definitely affection that you feel for her. You feel the need to protect her, to be here when she wakes, to know that she will not stop breathing in the middle of the night. It's affection or guilt, mon ami, and I cannot fathom why it would be the latter, so I'll just settle for the first."

Combeferre noticed how Enjolras cringed at the mention of guilt that he momentarily wondered if his assumptions were far off the mark. _But there is no mistaking the way he has been behaving…_ He waited patiently for Enjolras retort, and was perplexed when Enjolras stood up with an eager look on his face and approached him. For an instant there he thought he had pushed his friend too much, but then he passed him and went straight to the bed.

He turned to see Eponine's face contort, and her head moving slightly as if she was having a nightmare. In his surprise he almost missed the hand that Enjolras provided for her to hold on to or the way he gently ran his free hand soothingly over Eponine's hair, as he moved to the other side of the bed. He heard his friend making comforting sounds to ease her.

And then he whispered her name ever so softly.

That seemed to have done the trick for Eponine finally opened her eyes, her breathing heavy. She looked around her surroundings, looking helplessly lost, and then her eyes landed on Enjolras' face. A look of relief crossed her face, a slight smile forming on her lips. But just as fast as it appeared, it was replaced with furrowed brows and a look of hurt so intense that it tore through his being and hit him hard. It was all it took to have his worries come back with a force.

It was then that Enjolras felt her grip loosen and her hand extracted quickly after. He didn't have time to comprehend her erratic display of emotions before he or Combeferre could stop her from hastily sitting up and immediately screaming in pain.

Eponine felt her shoulder burn at her sudden movement, muddling any of her current thoughts about Enjolras. She heard another voice willing her to stay down and a pair of hands guiding her back to the bed as she succumbed to unconsciousness again.

Combeferre, who immediately busied himself with checking Eponine's vitals did not notice Enjolras hastily leaving the room or how Cosette and her father rushed in just as his friend left.

* * *

Enjolras moved without purpose. When he left the bedside, he only believed one thing: Eponine was terribly upset about his reaction that night, or the lack thereof. The look she gave him was enough to make him flee the room. Perhaps she blames him for allowing her to walk away, straight into the bullet's path. He wouldn't be surprised if indeed it were the case; he blamed himself.

He walked around aimlessly, his mind troubled in a distinct way that always seem to involve Eponine. First it was when he saw her at the rally, and then again after they were formally introduced, the latest one was the night he heard her talking to Courfeyrac about the revolution. Something about the girl stirred in him a reaction he would not have for anything else except for her.

He added a bit lip to his furrowed brows to paint a look of complete puzzlement and frustration as he traversed the streets. He wasn't thinking of where to go, or what to do, but he found himself in front of the Musain. He looked up the window to see the flickering of the candles from within. Without thinking too much of it he went up to their usual place, ignored the curious and surprised looks his friends threw his way and stole one of Grantaire's bottles then headed to his usual seat near the window.

Everyone stared at him wordlessly for it was so uncharacteristic for him to appear the way he did that night. And to cap things off, instead of resting on the chair, as anyone would normally do, he climbed up the table and sat on it, his legs dangling out the window as he took a long draw from the bottle of wine he took from Grantaire. If he felt the tension in the room, he paid it no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere when the whispering commenced, and although his friends were deeply troubled with his state, no one dared approach him.

_It's affection or guilt, mon ami._

He thought back to the conversation he had with Combeferre before Eponine woke. He found himself utterly confused because he felt that it was both. He clenched his eyes shut and took another mouthful of wine.

_Combeferre doesn't understand. _

Or did he?

For being one who's always controlled his consumption of alcohol, the sudden uninhibited gulping of wine sent a definite buzz straight to his head in just a matter of minutes. He found his already unclear train of thought turned more hazy and candid. Having lost the weak grip he had on them that night, his mind wandered to memories he strictly forbid his thoughts to return to.

_"It's closed for the night Eponine." He rolled his eyes at her as she gazed longingly up the darkened windows of the bibliotheque. She did not even bother to reply or to shoot him a look, as he was accustomed to. She merely moved to the side of the building, leaving him no choice but to follow her movements. She knocked on the back door, and he almost dragged her away when a sudden click of the lock was heard. She smiled up to the man who squinted his eyes to see her in the dark. Apparently, Eponine had been going to the library at night for years, the man was a friend who smuggled her in whenever he was on night watch. Eponine lead the way around the maze of shelves and dust, a flickering candle in hand. She stopped, seeming to find the ones she was looking for, holding the candle up to her face as she read the titles on the spines. Her eyes reflected the dancing flames with a look of concentration and she bit her lower lip as she surveyed the books. A thought passed him, he has never seen anyone so enchantingly endearing as the way Eponine did amidst the browning pages, the lost words and the eerie silence. When she finally retrieved a book and turned to face him, a timid smile appeared on her lips. At that moment, he was sure he wasn't mistaken. _

_Affection…_

Another mouthful of wine. His friends' words barely a distant whisper to his ears. For a rare moment Enjolras completely retreated to himself.

_For the first time, in the presence of most of their friends, he blatantly walked out the Musain to follow Eponine. She was livid and upset. They were speaking of the revolution and Jehan had brought it up to their attention that there were gamins who wished to fight if needed be. The group was divided on whether or not it was wise or even an option to get the young ones – aged 10 and above – involved. Jehan and Eponine fought to disapprove, while he and Bahorel wasn't quite opposed to it saying that gamins have their own will, and that it was as much the gamins' fight as it was theirs. He had caught up with Eponine, and caught her by the arm in the middle of an almost empty square. She turned around to wretch her arm off of his grip and wasted no time giving him a piece of her mind. "You! You are NOT to allow children into that foolish barricade of yours! It is not their place! Children should not be witnesses to violence and death. By allowing the gamins to fight, you gave Gavroche unspoken admittance to the barricades. I WILL NOT ALLOW MY LITTLE BROTHER TO FIGHT!" She then looked down, and bit her lip. Enjolras remembered placing his hands on her shoulders, his uncertain attempt at comfort. "I can't lose him." Eponine said in a whisper as she met his gaze. And then he understood, and felt the bitter weight of remorse on his shoulders as the broken look on Eponine's face tattooed itself to his memory._

_Guilt…_

He took another swig, briefly remembering between flashbacks, the way Eponine looked at him when she woke. The way her eyes seem to scream at him, blaming him for the state she was in. Enjolras despised that look on her. He downed another mouthful for good measure.

_She just started dancing. He couldn't believe the simplicity and ease of the moment. There they were, near the Opera house, and she stopped on her tracks and started dancing along to the waltz drifting in the air with her eyes close, a subtle grin playing on her lips. He watched her with a content smile of his own despite the raised brow. He heard the music beginning to climax, and by some unknown force, he felt the need to take her into his arms and simply dance with her. He did, and was rewarded with a smile so captivatingly beautiful that he wanted nothing but to see her with it always – carefree, unguarded, and happy. He felt contented, and thought nothing of the revolution or his studies, none of his worries. He was, for a rare moment, at peace. _

He raised the almost empty bottle to his lips and was half way there when he heard a new voice join the crowd he has managed to ignore. He would have just brushed of the new comer but upon the mention of Eponine's name, he snapped out of his reverie and saw Combeffere telling the rest of the Amis of the news he bore. "She woke up."

The rest of the drunken room erupted in cheer, and smiles were of abundance as the young men congratulated both Combeferre and Joly on a job well done, momentarily forgetting that their chief was in the room. They remembered his presence only shortly before they saw him exit the room, locking eyes briefly with Combeferre. The bottle of wine that was full merely a quarter of an hour before sat abandoned on the table, empty.

_She woke up._

Enjolras was strangely capable of walking straight although he was beyond tipsy and his reasoning splendidly askew. Quickly making his way to the address he has committed to memory, he knocked franticly on the door, completely unconcerned of the time and the people he unknowingly brought out of slumber.

The door opened. The man behind it said in an exasperated tone, "what part of '_don't be stupid about it_' didn't you understand?"

* * *

**A/N:** I apologize for the previous chapters I know they weren't much. But I do hope this one tickles your fancy again. Let me know what you think, leave me a line or two. _Review, sil vous plait_.

Wonder if you folks figured out who said the last line… ;)


	22. Chapter 22

Montparnasse groaned. He hasn't been sleeping well these past nights, in between participating in jobs, and taking care of the barely recovering Lizette, plus the anxiety about Eponine's state, rest was proving to be quite elusive. And as he opened the door at such an ungodly hour, to set eyes on a terribly unexpected guest, he felt the list grow.

He crossed his arms and in an exasperated tone asked, "what part of '_don't be stupid about it_' didn't you understand?" He took in Enjolras' disheveled appearance and the haziness in his eyes, the slight smell of alcohol pouring out of his pores and narrowed his eyes with the conclusion that the man was drunk.

_I don't have time for this. _He made to shut the door when Enjolras managed to hold it open enough to let the words, "She's awake" to pass through and reach Montparnasse. The latter pulled the door back, a visible look of relief on his face, expecting to hear more news.

"Aren't you inviting me in? You're not being very polite." Enjolras raised a questioning brow. Montparnasse shook his head in a mixture of annoyance and amusement, and turned to leave the doorway open for his guest.

"I wasn't going for polite." Came his retort. "And didn't I tell you to _send_ for me? Which means send a letter through a messenger." There was a reason for his instruction; the part of the city he resided in isn't exactly the safest place to be seen in especially for a rich pretty boy like him. Montparnasse turned to face the other man, only to find him already sitting comfortably on his couch.

"No matter, I got the message through, have I not? And besides, I've got nothing better to do." Enjolras said as he began to yawn.

"Shouldn't you be at Rue Plumet, taking care of her?"

He looked guiltily up to meet Montparnasse's eyes. "She's mad at me." The assassin couldn't hide his crooked smile at the hilarity of the situation as if to say '_really?'_ The rebel leader reduced to a whining pouting drunk. _Is this the effect Eponine has on boys? _"Don't give me that look! I am serious!"

Montparnasse held both his hands up as he backed up to the window and opened it a little, reaching out for two bottles of ale that he kept in stock outside to cool them. _If I am not getting any rest tonight, might as well keep the entertainment going. _He thought as he handed Enjolras one of the bottles. "So, what did you do?" He asked as he resumed his position, leaning on the table as he took a swig of his ale.

"You are going to kill me."

"Depends. But, I'll try not to."

"Remember the night Ep got shot?" Montparnasse gave him a curious look and nodded. _Ep? You have a nickname for her now?_

"Well, it was my fault." Enjolras dropped his eyes to the bottle in his hands.

"Explain." He demanded, suddenly aggravated.

"I let her walk away. I now understand why she didn't want us to know about her past. What happened then is enough to make anyone understand why. When she finally came back to me, I couldn't face her. I didn't know what to say. And before I could think of anything, she ran away. What's worse is, I didn't follow her immediately. I think she thought I was condemning her with my silence, but it's not it." Enjolras ran his hand through his hair, contemplating.

"So you're telling me, one: you upset her and two: you knew you did, but did not follow her? You're making it hard for me not to want to kill you now."

Enjolras didn't seem to mind Montparnasse's words. "I've seen you before you know. Both of you." Montparnasse thought he was referring to the day of the protest where he first seen the young revolutionary as he carefully regarded the version of Enjolras that he's quite sure was something that his friends didn't encounter at a regular basis, if at all. Enjolras still had his eyes on the bottle, looking all the more remorseful as the seconds ticked.

"I was there when you rescued her in the alley from that man." He whispered silently as the gears inside Montparnasse's mind started to turn and click.

_Rescue. Alley. Man._

He could only think of one other night. And like Eponine, he didn't like thinking about what happened then. He knew he couldn't brush it off; he lost something so dear to him – perhaps the most valuable thing in his life. He tensed but pushed his sentiments aside as he heard Enjolras speak again. The bottle in his hand was held so tight; he knew that just one wrong word and he'd have no qualms of making it fly straight to the young revolutionary's head.

"I wanted to run to her then, but I was in shock and before I could recover you came along. From what I could see, she knew you, and that you were there to keep her safe. I felt awful that I couldn't have done anything for her." Enjolras lifted his eyes to meet Montparnasse's. He took a mouthful before continuing. "I still do, you know. The guilt never left me and I could never forget about it. When I saw you both for the first time after years during the protest, I had my suspicions.

And then that night, when she said your name after you left. There was no longer any doubt in my mind that the girl I failed to save was Eponine. That was why I couldn't look her in the eye or speak when she came to me before getting shot. And now it seems as though I've failed once again. How could I expect her to forgive me now?"

Montparnasse took in the remorse in the other man's eyes and instead of reacting immediately to his story, he held Enjolras' stare and carefully thought about the situation. He wondered if he did not get to Eponine that night years ago, would Enjolras have gotten out of his way to save a stranger? But then again, if he saw what happened that night – the way that blasted man had his way with Eponine and almost beat her to a pulp – and took what he found that night at Rue Plumet, then he'd have a perfectly good idea of Eponine's shady and not at all respectable past.

But there he was on his couch, talking about her, thinking about her, completely taken by her, all though Enjolras has yet to admit it to himself.

_He has not abandoned her. _The thought he had back in the alley with his first conversation with Enjolras ran through his head again. It was the same thought that convinced him that his concern for Eponine was something pure and deep, after all, he once experienced it before; he knew the signs.

He thought about Azelma, allowing the silence to stretch, taking another mouthful of ale and leaving Enjolras to douse in his remorse for a bit more.

_He came back to his poor excuse of a home with his hands still shaking, remembering all too well the weight of the cursed blade that had helped him draw his first life. He was a thief so many times before that night, and would have willingly continue to be one to survive, yet the situation called for more money and therefore a more challenging job. It was either Azelma be sold to another gang, or for him to do a job for them, all for Thenardier's greed. He did not have enough money after paying for 'a night with Eponine' and had at last succumbed to the deal Thenardier presented him with._

_He barely made it past the door when a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, a small head rested on his chest as the girl sobbed silently into his shirt. He did not expect Azelma to be waiting for him, and he did not want her to find him in that state, but he wrapped his arms protectively around her nonetheless. When Azelma finally looked up to meet his eyes she said, "I know what you did for me. I wish you didn't, it's way beyond money this time, Parnasse. I would never have asked it of you."_

_"I would not allow you to be placed in anymore danger than you already are. At least with us I can constantly keep an eye on you, and I can stand at ease knowing none in our ranks will lay a finger on you." He insisted, though he could not help but wonder how Azelma could still treat him like this when he was now a murderer. "Does it not bother you to associate yourself like this with an assassin?"_

_She caressed his cheek, a sad smile on her face, "My Parnasse, what you've done was wrong and no motive could justify it – like most of the things we do. But in this world, we've made so many mistakes that if we dwell on it too much, then we will have no time for the right. I would take away all this if I could, but I cant. So instead, I'll take it and I'll take you. I don't see you as a criminal, Parnasse, you're a man who cares for me and my sister, selfless to a fault. You make me feel more than the girl I actually am, tell me, how could I condemn you? How could I think of the bad in you, when you've given me all the good? You see Parnasse, I will not and can not bring myself to abandon you." _

_She spoke the words so tenderly that the young assassin was convinced at that very moment, that he was completely and utterly in love with the young woman in his arms. "I will not abandon you, no matter the cost." He quietly promised before tilting her face up and catching her lips in a gentle kiss for the first time._

Montparnasse shivered as the memory faded. He missed her everyday. She was his redemption, and in this cruel world everybody needed one. He looked back to Enjolras who looked even more forlorn, and thought, maybe – just maybe – he could be Eponine's redemption and she be his.

"Are you not concerned that her past might taint your reputation if you continue to be seen with her, bourgeois boy?" Enjolras was taken aback and suddenly his demeanor turned fierce. Suddenly he didn't seem too intoxicated.

"My reputation is the least of my concern. I will not judge her based on the life she was given; you and I know she's more than that."

"Do you really?" Montparnasse challenged, knowing that this opportunity with Enjolras' tongue loosened by alcohol, was too good to pass up.

"Gavroche told us everything. It was not by choice that she did what she used to do, and I see her not as the young law-breaker that she was, but as the respectable young woman who've been working so hard for a better life for herself and her brother. She's no longer the helpless kid forced to do her father's bidding, she has a mind on her own and a sharp one at that. She's strong and gentle at the same time, and I admire her for everything that she is now. Nothing will change that." As Enjolras spoke the words, something dawned on him. He realized that he wasn't merely convincing Montparnasse, he realized with a slight panic in his chest that he meant every single word said out loud. He wasn't aware until then that Eponine meant that much to him. He blinked.

A silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable settled in the room only to be disturbed shortly after when a fit of coughing rang from the bed on the far end of the unit. Enjolras looked over as Montparnasse approached the bed and watched curiously as the assassin rubbed the little girl's back soothingly and then replacing the damp cloth on her forehead.

"Has she been sick long?" He ventured to ask.

"It's been a week."

"Have you taken her to a doctor to have her checked?"

"It's not the way how things work in the slums, Enjolras, especially not with a man with my reputation." After making sure that Lizette was comfortable and would be fine until she wakes in the morning, Montparnasse stood up and headed for the door. _I've heard enough._ "Come on now. Let's get you back to Rue Plumet."

* * *

Eponine gave in to the pull of consciousness as she felt the warmth of the morning sun seeping through the window. She kept her eyes close, as awareness sunk in. She got shot. She was staying at Cosette's place. Combeferre and Joly attended to her. Enjolras brought her here.

_Enjolras. _Maybe she shouldn't have been too hard on him last night. She remembered seeing the remorse so obviously painted on his face, but then again when show woke up again, he was no longer there. Eponine did not know what to make out of him anymore

Before she could delve more into thinking about him, she felt suddenly aware of something peculiar. She opened her eyes, batting the sleep off them, and felt her heart flutter and her cheeks warm at the sight that greeted her.

One of her hands was in between both Enjolras' hands on the bed. He was seated on a chair, his forehead rested on their tangled fingers. He was asleep. Eponine could not help but give in; she allowed a serene smile to grace her face, her eyes softened. She reached out to run her free hand gently through his hair, ever so careful to not disturb him from his slumber.

_He came back._

"He's been here everyday since, watching over you." She looked up to meet Cosette's kind eyes as she stood by the doorway.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello everybody! I regret to inform you that I don't think I will be able to update anytime soon (unless I get a sudden burst of motivation and time from work; both seem unlikely at the moment). So I'll leave you with this chapter. I really hope to hear from you guys because now would be the perfect time for suggestions and questions and reviews.

Quick question, _what do you think of my Enjolras?_ I would really like to know how I can improve writing him... _it's been frustratingly challenging. If you've got tips, and ideas, please feel free to let me know._ PM or review, you pick.

I'll try not to be gone for too long. I don't want to be gone for too long. :|

Thank you so much to everyone who's been keeping up with the story and giving their support. Much appreciated, truly.


	23. Chapter 23

_How much do they know?_

Eponine's mind started racing back to the questions that Combeferre refused to let her ask last night. She desperately wanted to know what they knew about her, or at the very least what Enjolras said about the night she got shot; she wasn't naïve to think that there were no questions asked.

"How are you feeling?" Cosette asked as she neared her bed, setting some clothes on the drawer she passed.

Eponine watched her carefully, noting the easy grace that she moved with. She could hardly believe that this was the same girl who used to fumble with the large broom in their family inn years ago. But people change, don't they?

"I'm feeling fine." She said, "Though I really would like to move about. I feel like I've started growing roots to this bed."

"Roots to the bed, I highly doubt. Roots to something else, highly possible." The blonde teased glancing at the sleeping Enjolras, as she situated herself on the bed. Cosette laughed at how wide Eponine's eyes became at her statement. "Relax. I'm sure Joly will allow you to move about after he's done checking on you. For the meantime, I unfortunately cannot allow you to leave the bed, I don't want Joly to bite my head off."

Eponine could not fathom why on earth Cosette treated her oh so kindly, without any trace of bitterness in her words and actions. She wondered how the girl managed to put the past completely behind her, because it simply seemed that way. If anyone could embody redemption it would be the blonde who was seated on her bed opposite to the man still holding her hand.

They engaged themselves in a conversation about the past few days, what she had missed while unconscious. She learned from Cosette that the Amis came to visit often, and could not contain a smile for their obvious concern. It was nice to have people care for her, she decided. When Cosette mentioned Enjolras' insistence to stay and watch over her at night, the blonde did not miss the blush on her cheeks and continued telling her details. Cosette was secretly amused at how innocent and new and naïve the affection both held for one another was.

Eponine thought her subtle glances to the mop of blond curls was unnoticed by Cosette. Oh how wrong she was. Cosette was fighting to keep the smirk on her face hidden, she turned her head to study the light breaking through the light curtain, and a calm silence dominated the room.

"Cosette?"

"Hmm?" Not quite looking away from the window.

"Are you not…" Cosette turned to face Eponine who was clearly struggling for words. "…upset with me? Do you not remember how terrible I was?"

The blonde donned a look of contemplation, the smile wiped away from her face. "I remember. I remember everything, Eponine, but I've never blamed you or Azelma. Your parents however…" She drifted off, shaking her head. She didn't want to talk about them.

Eponine gently covered Cosette's hand with hers. "I'm truly sorry." She whispered.

It took a couple of minutes before Cosette said another word. "You know, I keep on wondering, if they weren't so horrible, would you and I have been friends?"

"They aren't here to stop us now." Eponine smiled up at her, and felt Cosette squeeze her hand.

"I'd very much like that." Her face shone, just like Marius said, _a burst of light._

Just then Enjolras began to stir, a soft groan escaping his lips. Before Eponine could react, Cosette had stood up from the bed and whispered, "I'll leave you two alone."

"But…" whatever Eponine had to say died on her lips as Enjolras' head began to move. She saw Cosette shoot her a knowing look, a wicked smirk playing on her lips.

"Such a friend you are!" Eponine called, then pouted. She could barely hear the way the blonde said "You just might thank me later" in a singsong tone.

The beating of her heart sped up, and she unknowingly held her breath as Enjolras slowly lifted his head. He took one of his hands and ran it through his hair, while the other remained attached to Eponine's hand.

She dared not move as she watched him.

And then the inevitable happened. His gaze landed on her and he finally felt aware of her hand in his, of her eyes unblinkingly watching him, and of the healthy blush that tinted her cheeks.

It felt like hours had passed as the silence stretched. Eponine's heart showed no sign of slowing down. Her mind was muddled and she blurted out, "you snore."

Enjolras blinked. He looked lost. "Im sorry?"

"Sorry for snoring?"

"Yes." Enjolras allowed a small smile to appear on his face, ignoring the slight pounding in his head. He regretted the alcohol from last night, and he despised the leftover that still filled his bloodstream. "And for that." He looked over to her shoulder where the bullet had pierced her skin.

"It wasn't your fault." She whispered. But she knew what he meant. She has seen it on his face.

Enjolras continued, as if not hearing her words, "I am truly sorry. I regret allowing you to leave; it was foolish and stupid of me. I know you can take care of yourself and that you're strong Eponine – we all do – but you were upset, and no amount of excuses can forgive the fact that I was not there for you when I should have been."

The sincerity and concern in his words made Eponine want to erase the worry lines on his face. "It doesn't bother you that I know those men?" She ventured to ask. It was pointless to avoid anyway. She tried to sit up, and was about to fail again until she felt Enjolras' hands guide her. Although thankful for the new position she was in, she secretly missed the feel of his hand in hers. "Don't you see me differently now?" She added almost desperately, fearing yet needing to hear the answer.

"I do." The young man's eyes bore into hers, honest and intense. "But it hasn't made me change the way I think of you." He sat on the bed just as Cosette had earlier, and reclaimed her hand in his. "Eponine, I've always thought of you as a fierce, strong young woman, capable of being gentle and caring. You've been brilliant with the Amis and our cause, and for that I am eternally grateful. But beyond everything else, you've been a wonderful friend to me. What kind of a person would I be if I let your past bother what we have now? If anything, the revalation has only made me see you in a better light."

Eponine was finding it hard to grasp his words. Did he really say that her past matters not to him? But what did he know besides what he saw that night? She was sure he was only scratching the surface. She wondered if he knew about everything, would he still think the same way.

Her questions must have made it to the surface somehow because Enjolras simply stated, "I know of your past, Eponine. All of us, we know of it." The look on her face made him quickly add, "We're not going anywhere. I am not going anywhere, and I will not let you walk away again."

Eponine bit her lip. _Everyone knows?_ "How" was all she managed to say.

Enjolras told her that it was Gavroche who told them the story. He told her about how the Amis reacted and what he told them about the shooting. By the end of the recollection, she merely nodded her head, her eyes distant as she fixed her gaze at the window.

_Everyone knows. _She felt her mind go blank for a moment, finding it hard for the idea to sink in. _Everyone knows. _She inhaled a shaky breath. _They know. _

"I am sorry, Enjolras." She whispered; she turned her head but her eyes landed on the sheets unwilling to meet the young man's gaze. "My past has almost never failed to give others a reason to reject me. Forgive me for my lack of faith in you and the Amis. I thought I'd…" She paused, and chewed on her lip. "I was afraid I'd lose the Amis and Chetta if you all knew my secrets. I was afraid I'd lose you." Her quiet voice shook and was barely comprehendible. Tears were threatening to spill.

This was something she was not used to. She didn't know how to handle the situation; she hadn't built walls for this. It was a rare moment, Eponine felt vulnerable.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, willing herself not to cry, when she felt his fingers gently tilting her chin up. Her eyes found his and she felt a warm feeling spread inside her. She relaxed. The feeling was reminiscent of the first rays of sun after a storm, of that first sip of tea on a cold night; it was the feeling of finally coming home after so long.

Eponine felt his hand cup her cheek, and she leaned in into his touch. Both their hearts were racing, completely overwhelmed with emotions and the novelty of the sensation of something so innocently intimate. Logic ignored and caution forgotten, at that moment their souls recognized one another.

Enjolras was leaning close, a subtle surrender. He gently touched his forehead with hers. Their eyes were completely locked, searching, looking deeply into the other. Their thoughts loud in their heads, their heartbeats drastically even more so.

_So close._

"I'm here." He whispered.

_Almost there… so damn close. _

A certain feeling of comfort embraced both, as time seemed to have stopped. He silently wondered how someone could feel foolishly brave and painfully uncertain at the same time. He felt exposed and naked yet strong and firm too. It was so many conflicting emotions but he did nothing to stop them, encouraged by the sensation of being so close to her, to feel forgiven and hopeful, he sighed away his fears. He closed his eyes, just wanting to feel. Eponine followed a beat after, a small smile playing on her lips.

The peace was pleasant while it lasted for all but a few seconds. They pulled away distractedly as a familiar voice rang out an eager announcement of arrival.

"Eponine! I'm so glad you're finally awake." Joly burst through the door, followed by a hand that barely missed his collar in an attempt to keep him out of the room. The hand belonged to Cosette who stood defeated against the doorframe, shooting the extremely florid Enjolras and Eponine an apologetic smile.

Combeferre and Jehan followed shortly after, the latter with his usual bouquets of flowers. He handed the pink one to Cosette, and saved the cheerful yellows for Eponine. As they went about with pleasantries and greetings with Cosette, Enjolras had moved off the bed. He squeezed her hand before letting go and shot Eponine a shy smile that she responded to with a timid one of hers just before Joly started his assessment and his parade of questions.

Combeferre and Jehan were about to move to Eponine's bed when Enjolras caught Combeferre by the arm. Eponine was caught up with the attention Joly and Jehan were giving her, it was completely different from the one she got from Enjolras earlier, but it was nice all the same. She looked up to see where Enjolras had gone, but she did not find him in the room. Combeferre seemed to have left the room as well. She felt a frown beginning to form but Cosette's words halted them. She relayed a message, "Enjolras said they'll be back soon." She flashed the brunette a reassuring smile.

Eponine felt confused, not in a bad way, but confused nonetheless. She found herself asking a familiar question because as little as she knew about great friendships, she knew whatever happened was beyond that. What she felt then was different when Courfeyrac or Marius would catch her in a hug, or the way Montparnasse held her when she dealt with the loss. The level of comfort and warmth was simply on a different level than what she'd experienced with anyone else before. It was foreign, and it was nice. It was uncharted territory. It made her nervous and vulnerable, and it made her smile. _What does that make of us?_

She shook her head, willing to bring her focus back to the present. She smiled at how Cosette was making fun of Joly's paranoia, Jehan laughing along with Cosette. When the young medical student seemed to have enough of the teasing, he said indignantly, "you can't blame me for worrying! She was so close!"

Cosette and Jehan relented. Eponine just shook her head amused with her friends' obvious concern and their mere presence. True, she's been hurt so many times before, a bruise here, a cut there, but nothing as serious as this. Nothing so drastic to have threaten her life and brought her so close to death.

Joly had a point_, indeed so close_.

* * *

Claquesous may have been undetectable and hard to tail at night, but the man he was speaking to clearly was not, for he has been speaking loud enough for Montparnasse to catch the drift of his words as he passed the alley on his way back to his place.

He would have gladly passed the curious scene for he was deadly exhausted and wanted to get back before the little gamine woke up, but he stopped dead in his tracks when a particular line caught his attention.

"There will be a huge reward for anyone who finds those foolish brats."

_Reward? _Ah! The promise of money has always intrigued him. __

He hid himself as he continued to listen. The man continued without any inkling of his presence, "the chief said based on their informants the boys seem to be wealthy enough for good clothes, and young enough to be students."

_So it's true, Claquesous does have connections to the cops._

"The cognes are desperate for information before their plans take action. They'll pay dearly for mere names of those involved."

Montparnasse donned a look of concentration as the realization sunk in. He knew exactly what the man was talking about, and he knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey there! First up, I apologize for the long wait. Writing has been quite difficult these past few weeks with work, and the lack of inspiration. But I think I may just have recovered, and I have your reviews and follows to thank. **Big shout out to AviationAce221**, who's been giving me a lot of hella great ideas to work with and actually gotten me back on the keyboard.

This is my recovery-chapter, and please be kind for I may have somehow lost my touch in my long absence. I'd like to get some **feedback on the Eponine/Enjolras moment**… too much? Just right? Good? Bad? What do you think? Do let me know. I do not wish or intend for whatever it is between them to go too fast, so I'd love to know if im screwing it up or just doing fine with it. **REVIEW? Why yes, please! **

One more thing… so, Parnasse is up to something. ;)


	24. Chapter 24

"Eponine! I said no heavy lifting." Madame Laurice sighed exasperatedly. "Dear, you stubborn child." Eponine managed to smile, as the older woman clicked her tongue.

As soon as Joly deemed her ready to get out of bed, she had insisted to return to her own home, refusing to be a burden much longer to Cosette and her father although her hosts thought nothing of that sort. She was given approval only after she had agreed to having her friends come check on her and to rest at least three days more before heading back to work or venturing outside. Gavroche had denied his wanderlust for those three days and was on his self-appointed guard duty at home much to Eponine's annoyance, and his presence guaranteed the Amis that she was getting all the rest she could get.

Now that the three days were over, she was glad to finally return to work where she was greeted with a warm welcome by her market friends and Madame Laurice. Everything would have seemed to return to normal if only she was actually allowed to do real hard work and not just talk to the customers and hand them their change.

"I'm sorry, Madame. I just don't appreciate feeling useless."

Madame Laurice straightened her spine, and looked at Eponine. "Child, you have got to allow people to take care of you." She neared Eponine to put a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder. "You are not being useless, you're helping me with the customers, which I must remind you is also part of your job. Plus, your absence was no burden - don't get me wrong I've missed you - your friends made sure of it."

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked, confused.

"I mean that they've been helping me out here. Grantaire would come in the mornings – still slightly hung over, mind you – and lift the crates. And then that lovely lad, Jehan, would arrive shortly after to help with the morning rush. Some of the boys and even Elodie would come keep me company throughout the day. Then Enjolras would come after his classes, before returning to you, to help me close shop."

"Oh." It was all she could muster. No one had told her about this, Courfeyrac just mentioned in passing that Madame Laurice knew about her situation and has sent her regards. She had not expected them to do something like that. Well, she wasn't expecting them to stick around at all. This was all overwhelming… and nice. She allowed a sense of peace to settle on her.

Madame Laurice turned her back and returned to working, a knowing smile plastered on her face. "Such sweet boys, really. They're very protective of you and Gavroche, I could tell, especially Enjolras." Without having to turn and look at Eponine, she knew a blush was quickly forming on the girl's cheeks. "Elodie told me he's been watching over you at night when you were at Cosette's home. I wonder if he'll be coming over today." Eponine remained without response, lost in her thoughts.

After that – dare I say – rather intimate morning, Eponine and Enjolras haven't really had the chance to speak to each other alone. She missed their walks and conversations. She'd seen him little these past few days, and on his short visits he kept his distance. It wasn't the cold sort of distance, Combeferre would say it was peculiar, it was cautious and bordering on awkward. And though Eponine convinced herself over and over that it should not bother her, it did.

What she failed to notice though was how the young man secretly looked at her when she was engaged with someone else. She didn't know about him asking Joly or Combeferre about her state or how her wound was healing. Most importantly, she didn't know about the pastries he passed Gavroche as his little show of gratitude for watching over his sister though the boy made it clear that he wanted to do it, and needed no compensation for it.

She shook her head clear off her thoughts as an elderly gentleman approached the stall. Though as much as she concentrated on the tasks at hand all day, Madame Laurice's words rang in the back of her head. Most times it elicited a giddy smile to appear on her face, sometimes though, her brow would knit in wonder and curiosity, an undeniable bitterness simmering beneath the surface. '_Enjolras would come after his classes, before returning to you.' Why does that sound so… nice? Get a grip, you foolish heart; you are way out of your league._

* * *

Gavroche entered the Musain with his usual gall, a young gentleman in tow. "Good afternoon, young sirs!" He beckoned to the men who were huddled in one corner. Enjolras who was in discussion with Combeferre and Marius over what seem like legal documents and government audits turned their heads.

"Chief! How d'you do?" Gavroche addressed Enjolras. "I've got word back from Lamarque, actually I got this here gentleman." He flashed a toothy grin.

Days earlier, Enjolras had managed to send the letter he drafted addressed to General Lamarque. It was on one of those nights where he sat up late in the spare room of Monsieur Fauchlevent's home, keeping an unconscious Eponine company, that he finally began the overdue letter to one of the most influential men dedicated to the same cause as the Amis. In fact, he and his men venerated Lamarque because of his criticism of the government they detested and his awareness and fight for human rights and political liberty.

His efforts seem to have paid off as the man who arrived with Gavroche came forward and offered his hand to Enjolras. His air of sophistication and confidence made Combeferre a tad bit wary though. "You must be Alexandre Enjolras, it's an honor to meet you. My name is Jerome Lamarque, son and adviser of _the _General Lamarque."

Jerome Lamarque had a carefully trimmed head of dark curly hair, gray eyes and a prominent nose, much like his father's. He stood tall, towering an inch over Enjolras yet still about two notches shorter than Combeferre. His stance and his tailored suit spoke of his background, and with all aspects accounted for, he made for a rather stunning depiction of a young, handsome and dashing Frenchman.

"Likewise." Enjolras returned his sentiments with a firm handshake. "Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Philippe Combeferre and Marius Pontmercy." He gestured to both men flanking his sides. They exchanged handshakes as well.

After introductions were made and a basic overview of the projects and goals the Amis have set were taken into deep and thorough discussion, Jerome Lamarque paused to think things over. He was sent by his father to see to different groups like this one, to assess whether or not a group will be able to utilize the support, which is quite advantageous, that Lamarque was willing to aid a number of strong associations.

"Well," he cleared his throat, looking Enjolras straight in the eye. Jerome, who was conscious and quite proud of his intimidating presence, found it refreshing albeit a bit vexing to meet a man who was at every right quite as intimidating as he was. He found Enjolras just as motivated and passionate as the voice that spoke through the letter. Enjolras was dedicated, and so sure of himself and was ready to fight for the cause. Plus with what he just witnessed, he seemed to have a solid group of support and advice from his comrades. Jerome Lamarque could not have, in anyway, denied the man respect. He felt for an envelope in his coat pocket, and handed it to Enjolras. "I am convinced. Unfortunately, I am only allowed to speak partially in behalf of my father. The envelope holds invitations to a formal gathering at the General's residence for my mother's birthday. And though most men would not mix business with pleasure, my father thinks it's best to use such a gathering to mask the true intention of this meeting as a precaution."

"That is very clever of him." Combeferre commented.

Jerome smirked, "Indeed. Now, the invitation will admit three representatives from your group, and since it is to be a formal social event upfront, young gentlemen such as our selves are expected to bring a companion to the festivities. I suggest you start finding a date for the evening. It should help keep suspicions at the minimum, as I trust you are all aware of the attention my father has been getting." He began to rise from his seat, straightening his clothes as the Amis followed suit.

"Understood. Thank you for considering the letter and making time to meet with us." Enjolras once again extended his hand.

As Jerome took it he said, "I look forward to having you all at the meeting. I can promise a room full of interesting individuals with the same goals. It should be nothing short of stimulating."

The young Lamarque left with a smug grin, and ruffled Gavroche's hair as he passed the boy who was preoccupied with the pastry Musichetta had just given him. Once again having the Musain to them selves, Marius began to speak.

"Well, business aside, I guess this is a pretty good excuse to invite Cosette, don't you think?" He spoke to Combeferre with a lowered tone, hoping Enjolras wouldn't hear his question knowing exactly how their chief reacted to musings like this when at work.

Combeferre however did not bother to match his tone with Marius. In fact, he spoke loud enough to indicate that Enjolras should join the conversation. "It is. Again, I have to say it's quite clever, no one will suspect rebellious minds to meet in such a seemingly harmless and normal social occasion. I do hope Elodie wouldn't mind accompanying me to the event." He said calmly, a barely noticeable coy smile on his face. "How about you Enjolras, who will you be taking?"

With his best poker face on Enjolras shot Combeferre a tired glare, knowing exactly where he was taking the conversation. "I'll be going alone. Jerome said it was _suggested_ not required. I do not wish to bother anyone to hang on my arm for a night only to be left at the hall as we convene with Lamarque."

"You've got a point." Marius said his brows knitted as he thought. "But, my friend, just take a second to recall the gala at my Grand Pere's on our first year here in Paris."

Combeferre catching Marius' drift added with an amused tone, "Oh! The one where you had to practically hide from the mothers and young ladies at the ballroom! That was quite a hilarious night, I must say, and the wine was exceptionally astounding."

"I believe I fail to understand your point." Enjolras said sounding dangerously close to being frustrated.

"What I am trying to say is, Enjolras if you do not appear with a date in tow, I would bet you a thousand francs right now that a similar reaction to your presence will occur, and thus hinder you from concentrating on the real reason why we would be there." Marius was pretty sly when he wanted to be.

"Right!" Combeferre added all too enthusiastically, "And I'm quite sure you'll have no trouble finding a woman who can relate to the cause, and who wouldn't fill the evening with useless banter."

"I'm quite sure Eponine wouldn't mind." Marius considered obliviously in an undertone that was still caught by his friends. Combeferre had a knowing smile that Enjolras could not help but find annoying. The reality that his two closest friends did in fact have a sound argument, all the more left him slightly exasperated.

He sighed. "I'll take your thoughts into consideration." With that he effectively ended the discussion. He turned back to his work, completely missing the look of victory etched on his friends' faces. What they did not know, and what Enjolras would never admit to, was that at Jerome's mention of a date Enjolras' mind immediately flashed an image of Eponine.

The morning when Eponine woke up was full of unexpected behavior from Enjolras. First, the fact that he initiated and pushed for physical contact still left him baffled. He could brush away the fact that he had been holding her hand as he slept, but resting his head so close to hers… almost, almost feeling her lips on him was still a bit hard for him to grasp and has left him slightly over conscious when around Eponine. He felt like he couldn't trust himself to be so near to her, because as hesitant as he was to admit, Eponine had a way of eliciting the most unusual and unexpected things out of him.

Secondly, he also considered the fact that because of her – or at least her acquaintances – he had made a connection of his own with a known criminal, an assassin no less. Truly, even for such a radical spirit, this was a bit too strange for Enjolras.

Enjolras set the document he was reviewing – or attempting to – down on the table with a frustrated grunt and buried his head in his hands. He begged his mind to silence even for just a few seconds. When he looked up, he stared through the window, his gaze lost beyond.

This is why he shied away from women. They were distractions. It was easier to prevent them than to get rid off. Eponine surreptitiously made it through his guard, he didn't realize till his thoughts weighed more heavily on her than on the cause – even after her attack and recovery, _especially after her recovery_. The damage has been done, because as diverting as she may be, Enjolras knew it in him that he would never wish for things to be any different.

So what was the problem aside from the fact that he had little to no clue of handling this phenomenon? It was the nagging fear that Eponine might not want it as much as he did. He was scared of hurting her like so many seem to have done before him. With all the things he's been juggling: school, the revolution, his parents - he was scared of disappointing, he was terrified of being another wrong in her life.

He ran his hand through his hair and willed himself back to his work. If any of his friends knew about his internal struggle, he'd gladly throw himself out the window.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room with Marius and Gavroche, Combeferre – ever the observant one – took a sideway glance at his obviously bothered friend. He smiled to himself, recalling the way Enjolras behaved these past few days, barely registering the story of Gavroche's most recent adventure. This has the making of something epic, he could just tell.

* * *

Montparnasse had followed Jerome Lamarque around the city even before seeing him with Gavroche earlier in the day. He tailed him to a modest but obviously well maintained house on the other side of the city after he left the Musain where the young assassin saw him conversing with two people he knew.

Montparnasse was looking for an odd sock, something that didn't fit the picture, the thing that would trigger the alarm in his head. After hearing Claquesous and the man in the alley a few nights back, he began scoping and gathering information from the streets. He knew exactly who were on the look out and who were interested in this kind of trade, and he had been listening, bribing and exchanging favors secretly to get a lead. And then a name and an agenda surfaced. The police and their illegal informants had reason to believe that the Lamarque men were stirring things and pulling strings.

He stood outside the property eyeing the people who came and went, and after almost two hours, Jerome left for yet another destination. Montparnasse followed. He did so for most of the day and was about to give up on the hunt, when finally, after 3 different meetings and studying almost a hundred of the people Jerome came across with, he found his link.

The link came in form of a young and admittedly attractive Mademoiselle. Montparnasse's jaw clenched as he eyed her braided red hair, and the simple yet elegant enough dress she wore around the bourgeois boys. Her large green eyes, shone with naivety but he knew better; his eyes could do the same trick. He didn't know the extent of her participation, but he would bet his life that her presence there was of no mere coincidence. No, a girl like Eleanor Magnon always had something else in mind.

When Jerome Lamarque left this time, Montparnasse did not follow, instead he seated himself a couple of tables close to the one where Magnon and some men convened. Taking a sip of the ale he bought for himself, pulling his hat to rest low on his head successfully shielding his eyes, he listened in.

"Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to this ball, ma cherie?" A young man with amber eyes and an expensive tailored coat said as he held Magnon close, his hands on her tiny waist.

Eleanor Magnon had the envelope that Jerome gave only moments ago in her hand. Her eyes were drifting over the content, slightly widening. Montparnasse, who had seen similar envelopes throughout the day, finally realized what it was for. He knew that Magnon's reaction to the invitation wasn't only delight at the idea of attending such an extravagant affair, but more because of the delight at the fact that this information was highly valuable.

Montparnasse downed his ale and left a couple of sous for the barmaid. Once he was a safe distance from the tavern, he took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair. He took in the cool breeze that came with the setting of the sun and sighed. His day was far from over.

He replaced the hat on his head and made his way to a place he swore he would never go back to again. If Eleanor Magnon was back in town, then so was Pandora - that's Mamselle Miss for the rest of Paris.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello darlings! I do hope I haven't thrown you of track, with my super late update. So here's the new chapter, from here on we'll be focusing on the events leading up to the revolution. I've got some pretty intriguing stuff lined up, and I'm thrilled to put it up soon. I just have to make sure Im ahead with the other chapters before I do just so I can get back to updating normally (or as close to it as I can get.)

**Let me know what you think about this chapter please.** Honestly,_ Ep and Enj_ and whatever it is going on between them (they both know that they care for the other more than usual friends do) are a bit of a challenge to write so _I'd greatly appreciate any thoughts or tips you can share_. And about _Parnasse_, how do you think his actions and the appearance of _Magnon and Mamselle Miss_ affect the story? Any ideas? OH! and _Jerome Lamarque_, what do you think of this character?

And to cap things off, a great big thank you to those who have been following the story until now, despite the long intervals... shout out to _tinmiss1939_ for the detailed review of the previous chapter, it made my day... and the next few days after and the next ten or 20 times I've re-read it. To the person who left a guest review, thank you for the feedback and letting me know I'm not way too off the mark, and to _Jac Danvers_: glad to have you back too.

_**Reviews and thoughts are highly welcomed and encouraged. **_


	25. Chapter 25

Eponine entered the Musain and was greeted by Musichetta. When Courfeyrac dropped by the market earlier for some food, he decided to pay Eponine and Madame Laurice a visit. On the said visit, he had mentioned to Eponine that there was an important meeting at the café, and so Eponine thought it the best time to return and contribute to the movement once again… and also perhaps to see the elusive Enjolras.

"Hello Eponine!" Musichetta stepped out of the bar and kissed both her cheeks. "It's been awhile since I've seen you here. I bet the boys will be glad to have you back. I've heard Enjolras has been working them to the hilt, and he's been quite… hmmm, how do you put it? Off? Well, he's been a bit off lately."

"He's not ill, I hope." Eponine said worriedly.

"I don't suppose so. But I've heard Marius tell Joly that he's been in and out of focus."

After a few more exchanges with Musichetta, She headed up the stairs, as she ascended, she began hearing discussions and papers ruffling. She smiled, the scene that greeted her was so familiar and it comforted her. She stood by the landing for a beat as her eyes scanned the room.

A few of the Amis haven't arrived yet, she gathered. Joly and Combeferre shared a table and were bent on some heavy looking tomes, studying. Marius, Bahorel and Grantaire were discussing some things over a few maps. On the far corner of the room, by the window, on his usual table, sat Enjolras with his back against everyone. The table was littered with papers and his black coat was hung on the empty chair beside him.

Eponine felt a chill run through her at the sight of him, but she steeled herself as she made her way to his table as she normally would do. Throwing a smile and a wave to Grantaire who noticed her presence and rested a hand on Combeferre's and Joly's shoulder as she passed them. She stood a few paces behind Enjolras, and breathed deeply. How she felt at the moment, she considered terribly weird. Why would she be nervous?

_This is crazy, there's no need to be nervous Ponine. It's just Enjolras. _She took a few steps closer, her footfall silent. She looked over his shoulders, reading his handwriting on paper. She shook her head gently, a smirk on her lips, she found it was yet another speech.

She said as she leaned in, her hands on the back of his seat, her face hovering above his right shoulder. "'Cumulative,' no. Try 'growing'." When Enjolras head turned in surprise upon hearing her words, she realized she had spoken her thoughts out loud and her eyes widened at the closeness of their faces. A quick blush colored both their cheeks. Eponine bit her lip as his eyes bore into hers.

Sound of footsteps and rowdy banter came ringing through the café as the rest of the Amis arrived. With their trance broken and Eponine straightening her spine, she said, "and 'recognizance', really? How many times must I tell you? No legal terms on your public speeches, Enjolras."

With that, Eponine turned and join the ones who just arrived, hoping that by the time she reached them, the blush and her short breaths would no longer be able to betray her whirling thoughts. Enjolras on the other hand, sat baffled in his seat and took a deep breath as he shut his eyes close for a moment. When he opened them, he replaced 'cumulative' with 'growing', unconscious of the lopsided grin that made its way to his features.

The meeting went as quick and uncomplicated as it possibly could. Eponine's return had somehow brought comfort to the Amis, knowing if Enjolras deemed it fit to throw one of his outbursts – as he's been keen on the past few days – the mademoiselle would be able to placate or fight of his nerves. It was clear to everyone but the two involved how they were good for one another.

The meeting has brought to light the fact that General Lamarque has viewed their activities as something of importance. This spurred in the men a renewed commitment to their cause and sent the room into a buzz of excitement. Enjolras stood by the corner as he reached for his glass of water. He downed the contents in one straight chug, soothing his rather hoarse throat. It was then as he was setting the glass back down on the wooden surface that Marius came to rest by his side.

"Cosette have agreed to come with me. She's terribly excited about it, and she thinks it's brilliant how we've gained the attention of such an influential man." Marius said as they both watched the others in the room, conversing, and drafting, and of course, drinking. "Has Eponine agreed to it already?"

"I haven't asked." _I'm not sure if I should._

"Well, now that she's here, I figure you should do it now."

When Enjolras did not react to his words, he chanced a glance at his friend and saw the lines on his forehead as his brows met and his lips set in a thin line.

"I'm sure Eponine will be valuable to us in securing Lamarque's support. You know how she stirs favors, Enjolras, having her there will not only stand as one more voice for the Amis – not to discredit Cosette or Elodie – but also make you look like an actual normal young man."

"There are a number of normal young men who attend gatherings without a lady on their arm."

"That's not the point and you know it, chief. If you won't do it, then I will." And with that Marius hastily left Enjolras' side. Leaving the latter wide-eyed and completely anxious for a complete second before he snapped and made his way to her too, desperately and quickly following the path his friend has taken.

When he reached them, he could hear Marius pleading with the young lady. "C'mmon Ponine, It would be wonderful."

"But, it's just not my thing Marius. Musichetta would be better suited for that." She said.

"Chetta is a lovely woman, but I doubt Joly and Bossuet will agree to that arrangement. I have every confidence that you will be perfectly suited for it, and I'd be honored and it would be my pleasure to escort you." Enjolras smoothly entered the conversation, his eyes set on Eponine. He couldn't just allow Marius to ask a girl for him. If he were going to bring someone to any event like that – as a date, then he would do the honorable thing and do the asking himself. He was no coward after all. From the corner of his eye, he could see Marius grinning and slowly walking away. Something was amiss, he could tell.

"Why, I would have never pictured you as the type who'd escort girls while shopping Enjolras!" Eponine smiled coyly, half confused at the rather peculiar proposal.

"I… what?"

"Marius –" she looked around and realized the man in question had already left, "was simply asking me to accompany Cosette in her search for a dress to use to this party they are going to attend. I thought Chetta would be of more help in that department, seeing as I really hadn't have time to keep up with the latest fashion.

"Oh." Came his dumbfounded response.

"What on earth did you think he was asking me?" Now she really was confused.

Enjolras ran his hand through his hair and rested it behind his neck. Suddenly he dropped his head ever slightly, the beginning of a blush forming on his cheeks. Eponine bit back the urge to beam at him; he looked perfectly adorable.

"I thought… It's just that…"

"Yes?"

At that very moment, Combeferre passed behind Enjolras, whispering to him as he went. Whatever Combeferre had said moved him to say, "Can I walk you home tonight?"

Although hesitant with his intentions, Eponine agreed. Later as they were crossing a bridge, and having spent the entire walk until then in awkward silence, Eponine finally had enough.

"What's this about, Enjolras?"

Enjolras looked nervous, something Eponine wasn't used to seeing. "It's about Lamarque actually." She watched him patiently, urging him to go on. "We're scheduled to meet him on the night of his wife's birthday, and there will be a party held for the occasion. It's the same party Marius is taking Cosette to.

And I know you must think it odd that he would want to meet on such a festive night, but…"

"He thought it would be wise to use the party as cover for a revolutionary meeting!" She whispered, following his train of thought. She made the light-bulb look seem undeniably charming, the young man had thought. Her cleverness at the moment solidified his resolve; if there was anyone Enjolras would bring to such an important meeting it would be her.

"Yes." He confirmed. "And to avoid putting our cover in jeopardy, we need to behave as normally as possible, hence Marius asking Cosette and Combeferre asking Elodie to accompany them..."

"So –" Eponine was not able to finish her thought because Enjolras had successfully silenced her by pressing the tip of his finger on her lips.

"Can you _please_ allow me to do this the right way?" He said, his frustration slipping. When Eponine nodded, quite wide eyed, he continued. "Would you, Eponine, do me the honor of accompanying me to the party?"

Eponine slowly reached for his hand to move it off her lips. "Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?" Eponine knew she might not like the answer he'll give, but she wanted to know anyway.

"Because…" _Because there's no one else I would rather spend that evening with but you. _"…You're dedicated to the cause as much as I am, and you can be very convincing you know."

"Oh." _Of course. The cause._ She answered a little too quietly for his liking. Was that disappointment he heard in her voice? He suddenly cursed his incompetence with dealing with women.

"It's really is important Eponine, I wouldn't ask if it weren't."

"I don't have a dress." Came her rather lame response, which even she thought was horrendous.

"Let Musichetta worry about that."

"I…"

"Please." His clear blue eyes bore into her caramel ones.

_How could I say no to that? _She sighed. "Fine."

"Th…" Now she was the one holding up a finger to his lips.

"But first, you have to give my blade back." This time it was Enjolras who moved to take the hand off the silenced lips. When he did, held Eponine's hand in his, and the lopsided smile that Eponine found utterly distracting made its way to his face. He gently placed her hand on the crook of his arm as they continued walking, this time with a more comfortable and amiable silence between them.

* * *

The young assassin took a bit of comfort at knowing that the other half of the pair was still at the café, as he rapped his knuckles on the dilapidated door. Montparnasse had almost forgotten the meaning of fear, but standing there waiting for the woman who's twisted him in so many ways, made a distinct chill run along his spine.

"Who goes there?" to anyone else the voice would sound alluring with its velvety flow and slightly husky features, but to Montparnasse it signaled warning bells in his head. The unique flaw to her French accent confirmed her identity.

"It is I." He said with as much confidence as he could muster at such a foreboding moment.

There was a hesitant silence cut short by the sound of unclicking locks; three locks to be precise. Although Montparnasse had prepared himself in as much as he could, he still couldn't help the wild beating in his chest when he saw her across the doorframe.

Mamselle Miss was one of the most wanted shadows in Paris by both the law and those who stray from it. She was a brilliant spy and an extremely convincing woman with her sly mind and her sensual talents. She was also an unforgiving murderer, who enjoyed leaving her mark on her victims. Mamselle Miss taught Montparnasse to always, _always_, do things with a bit of flare and sophistication. "It will set us apart from those dimwits, garçon." She had said years and years ago. She was the mind behind Montparnasse's roses.

"Pandora." Montparnasse greeted her coldly, but the woman paid little attention to it. She flashed her one of her smiles, the one that could easily disarm men, and it almost did so to him but he steeled himself.

"Come in, love." She pulled on his cravat as she led him through the doorway. Once Montparnasse crossed the threshold completely she shut the door behind him and he found his back pressed on the cold wood as she stepped closer to him. "It's been awhile garçon, I don't appreciate missing you for too long."

Montparnasse tried not to cringe when she called him _garcon_, it was an old pet name. Mamselle Miss was older by around 7 years, and when she met Montparnasse's mother, Montparnasse was just a boy of 9 years. The name stuck even after his mother left him and she decided to take him in, it was the name she called him when she taught him how to watch people to know who were valuable, and who had nothing worth stealing. She called him garcon when she taught him how to hold a blade, and shoot a gun. She whispered "garcon, never show hesitation," right before she pulled the trigger on the night Montparnasse witnessed his first murder. Pandora called him garcon long after he was no longer a boy, but already a tall and very handsome young man. She called him garcon as she taught him the pleasures of the flesh. She would purr in his ears as he pounded into her, "mon garcon!"

Montparnasse shuddered as she traced his jaw with her finger, his mind easily clouded by her scent that he knew all too well. She leaned into him as she eyed his lips, desire evident in her violet orbs. With her pressed onto him like that, it was easy to feel the curves of her body that age did not seem to have ruined. _It's been too long, _he thought as he felt her hand roam his chest while the other pulled at his neck to draw his lips down to her hungry ones. He could feel her smile as she pressed her ravishingly red lips upon his, he could taste the lust and malice as her tongue traced his lips, asking for entrance. When he granted it, and felt his own dance with hers, she moaned. And then suddenly a picture of Azelma's smile, bright and clear as a summer day, made its way in his mind. It was too pure that to taint it with such a betraying kiss would be a sin unforgiveable.

What he did next elicited a growl from the feral woman.

* * *

**A/N: **Hey there! So, haven't heard much from the last chapter... but alas, we trudge on, and I offer this new chapter in hopes to spark your interest once more. Here we find that regardless of the worries both Eponine and Enjolras individually have concerning their relationship (the one which so desperately wants to be more than friendship) they still tend to gravitate towards each other and they unconsciously drop their guard when the other is present. I hope you like the little moment they had.

And then there's Parnasse... now WHAT is he up to now? From here on, we will see more flaws in our beloved characters, so things should be a bit more intriguing.

A big thank you to new followers and to those who continue to read the story, an even bigger thank you to Mr. Danvers for reviewing. Lemme know what you like or not like... hearing from you lot really is a joy. **Please send this story a little love, and review.**


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